


Elurot Det Alsmai

by ChristineP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, EWE, M/M, Psychological Drama, Rimming, Rough Sex, dubcon, mentions of minor character/original character death, slightly AU, vague mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineP/pseuds/ChristineP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco walked through his door, Harry knew his quiet world was about to turn upside down. (EWE, slightly AU, dubcon, rimming, rough sex, mentions of minor character/original character death, vague mentions of torture, psychological drama, angst)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made.

'Elurot Det Alsmai'  
by: Christine

 

“Hello, _Mr_ Tisdale.” Harry greeted with wary apprehension.

Meloutar Tisdale had a nasty habit of prowling around Harry’s shop, pawing at his displays, and upsetting his carefully stocked merchandise, ultimately leaving empty-handed. This, in and of itself, was annoying, yes; but he also had a fondness for trying to get Harry to go out with him on a date. And each time, Harry had to politely decline. The man scared him: _a lot_.

“Why, hello there, Harry!” Mr Tisdale greeted a tad too cheerfully as he slid over to the counter. He leaned on it, lips stretching into a creepy smirk as he devoured Harry in one sweeping gaze. “Tell me: did you get that suspension sling I enquired about a few days ago?”

Harry inwardly grimaced and pulled away from the counter under the guise of straightening items on the back shelf. He shook his head. “Not yet. It’s on back order for a few weeks.”

He was actually quite glad the import company hadn’t had any slings in stock. Every time Mr Tisdale eyed the display, he would hum, and then try to hide his furtive leer, which Harry always caught. Harry just knew the man was picturing him strapped to it, dangling, wide and exposed for his perverted pleasure. Not that kinks were bad; Harry _was_ the owner of _Whips, Paddles and More_.

“Pity,” he replied, pouting. Harry suspected the old codger was actually disappointed.

Good.

“So, Harry,” Mr Tisdale continued, while grinning widely, nauseatingly, making Harry itch to pull his wand from its place along his calf, hex him, and run far, far away. Even Voldemort had never made him this nervous. “Are you busy tonight? Maybe, come over to my place for a drink or two? I promise I won’t bite. Unless, of course, you want me to …”

“Er—actually, I’m quite busy. In fact, I might not be available for the next two weeks.” _Even months or **years** , possibly._ “Uh … sorry,” Harry brusquely replied, shrugging his shoulders and hoping he projected a ‘very busy’ aura about him. Judging by Mr Tisdale’s reaction, however, he wagered he had epically failed.

Harry caught Mr Tisdale staring at him for a minute, making him struggle not to squirm in discomfort. _The old bugger’s probably picturing me naked or something,_ Harry mused disgustedly to himself.

“Very well,” Mr Tisdale sighed sadly instead. “I’ll check back tomorrow, then?”

“Ha,” Harry weakly chuckled. _If I don’t slit my wrists before then._ “Certainly. Wouldn’t hurt to try … again.”

Harry was ever so glad when the man finally took his leave. He waited a moment, in case Tisdale decided to come back inside, before he allowed himself to shudder, shaking his head. He really wished he could ban the man from his shop, especially since he rarely ever purchased anything. But Tisdale brought in a lot of business from all the people he knew who, in turn, shopped at Harry’s establishment. There wasn’t a high demand for his wares--mostly the fetish crowd and the occasional bloke wanting a joke gift--but he was happy.

He was rearranging a display of flavoured condoms on the counter when the doorbell jangled. Harry took a deep, calming breath, fervently hoping Mr Tisdale hadn’t decided to not take no for an answer and had come to kidnap him, when the last person he ever thought he’d see again walked in.

His chin was still pointy, his hair, still more white than blond, and his nose was scrunched as if he had smelled something nasty. Draco Malfoy hadn’t changed much from the last time Harry had seen him. He wore a smartly tailored black suit—inconspicuous to any Muggle--that brought out his colouring and hugged his body just so; Harry had to blink a moment as he caught himself, suddenly feeling a bit hot around the collar. Malfoy actually made quite an attractive man, even if he hadn’t been very handsome as a gawky teenager.

“So, the rumours are true.”

“Eh?” Harry replied, quite eloquently, if he said so himself. “Er, I mean, Malfoy? What are you doing here? And what rumours?” he asked self-consciously after a moment, frowning as the blond handled a rather large purple dildo and raised an amused eyebrow at it before setting it back down.

“The rumours going around the Ministry that the famous Harry Potter owns a Muggle sex shop,” Draco supplied, snorting at the price tag attached to one of the butt-plugs further down the aisle. He froze suddenly, eyes wide before he shouted, “Good Lord! That one’s huge!”

Harry blinked owlishly for a moment as Malfoy stopped in front of the case holding what Harry had affectionately christened Big Ben. “How in Merlin’s name can this _thing_ be used on a human being to derive any sort of pleasure?”

Harry moved from behind the counter, wryly smiling the entire walk over to stop beside Malfoy, crossing his arms as he stared at Big Ben. “It’s mainly used as a decoration. I’ve never heard of or known anyone capable of taking it,” Harry said, automatically falling into salesman mode.

Big Ben was an enormous silver butt-plug, about twelve inches in diameter and eighteen inches in length. It was true that Harry didn’t know anyone to have actually used it, though he had heard stories. Of course, they were only exaggerations. At least he _hoped_ so.

Malfoy tore his eyes away from the frighteningly large sexual apparatus to look at him. “Anyhow, I called in on your quaint little …” he sneered in disdain, “ _toy_ shop for a reason.”

Harry ignored the jab at his business, defensively crossing his arms as he gave Malfoy an expectant look. “What reason was that? Poking fun at my business? Replenishing your supplies at home? We’ve got some great lube on sale: I believe it’s cherry-flavoured this month.” He teased, smirking at the frown that appeared on Malfoy’s face.

“No, you uncouth deviant!” Draco snarled in indignation. “The Ministry needs your help: particularly, the Aurors I work with.”

“Ha! They actually let _you_ become an Auror? Bloody hell! The wizarding world really _has_ gone to wrack and ruin since I left,” Harry replied sarcastically, taking a step back from Draco and bumping into the rack of exotic floggers behind him. “Malfoy, if you hadn’t noticed, I left the wizarding world for a reason.”

Draco crossed his arms, watching in mild amusement as Potter flapped about, looking gobsmacked before leaning back against the display holding Satan’s Monstrosity. “Are you finished? Next time, do try to keep your spit to yourself,” he began dryly, wiping at his face. “I don’t care about your reasons, Potter. And … I can’t discuss it here, it’s classified at the moment, and I don’t think this … _shop_ is the most appropriate place to discuss the details.”

“I’m not going anywhere with anyone, least of all you,” Harry said definitively, turning away from the blond and moving to the shop’s exit. He pulled open the door and gestured outside. “Now, if you don’t mind…?”

Draco frowned, but moved to the door. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, shaking his head at Potter. “I’ll be in touch,” he ominously warned before marching out of the shop.

Harry firmly closed the door behind him, leaned back against it, and sighed. He didn’t know why the Ministry wanted his help: Voldemort was dead, and had been for the last ten years. Most of the Death Eaters were locked up in Azkaban or dead. So, what did they want with him?

Harry shook his head, bemused, and moved away from the door. It was about time to close up anyway, and not a moment too soon.

***

Harry was startled awake by the noise at his door. He sat up, groggily eyeing his alarm clock, which read ten-fifteen. He’d overslept, having been unable to get to sleep the night before. His mind was weighed down with wondering what Malfoy had wanted. Or worse yet, what the _Ministry_ wanted with him.

The knocking grew louder—if that were possible—and Harry sighed, grumbling. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table before he stood up, stretching the kinks out and scratching his head as he walked out of his room. He sleepily bumped into his sofa on the way to the door, not bothering to see who was there before he opened it. He scrunched his eyebrows at the bleary form standing there, fist poised to bang on his door once more. “Malfoy?” Harry asked, a huge yawn escaping him. “What the hell? How’d you know where I lived?” he grilled, opening the door wider.

Draco rolled his eyes and leaned back against the door across from Potter’s flat. “As nice as the view is,” he drawled with a telling sweep of his eyes down and up Potter’s form, “would you mind putting some clothes on? Not only is it incredibly rude, but your neighbours would die of fright. Or go blind.”

Harry blinked sleepily at Malfoy before he slammed the door in the blond’s face. He didn’t have time for this. There was a pillow with his name on it, waiting, calling out to him.

Just as he’d made it past the sofa, the neighbours down the hall chose then to begin shouting obscenities at him, probably due to the noise Malfoy had made, reminding him of all the pleasantness he'd experienced at the Dursleys’. He heard Malfoy’s own barely audible shouting through the door and sighed, flinging the door open. “Leave off, will you?”

Malfoy ignored him and shouted back at the muffled voices of the neighbours. “Mind your own business, idiots!” Harry cringed as the cursing got nastier this time. He opened his mouth when he saw Malfoy reach for his wand. “My mother!? That’s it!” Malfoy bellowed, pointing his wand towards the shouting.

Draco lost his balance as he was yanked into the man’s flat and fought back. “Get off, Potter!” he yelled while he tried yanking his arm out of Potter’s vice-like grasp.

“Calm down!” Harry replied, closing the door and letting Malfoy’s arm go once he stopped growling. “What do you want and how did you find me?”

Draco glared at Potter before he lowered his wand and took a deep breath. “I’m here to elaborate on what we talked about yesterday evening,” he replied, as he looked derisively around the flat. “As to your second question … I followed you home last night.”

Harry opened his mouth to shout at him, but held back. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he suddenly felt a headache edging out of reach, all this morning's fuss was getting to him. Plus, Malfoy being in his flat was definitely not helping. He looked up as Malfoy waved his wand about the walls, muttering quietly under his breath. Harry assumed he was putting up wards and Protection Spells to keep nosy people from listening in. It should have annoyed him, this invasion of privacy, but he was too angry to argue at the moment.

Seemingly satisfied that no one would be able to listen to their conversation, Draco lowered his wand and moved towards the sofa. He eyed it critically before deeming it worthy of his arse and sat down, leaning back with his arms stretched out and his legs crossed.

“Go on. Make yourself at home,” Harry dryly shot, pulling an annoyed face.

“I will, thanks.” Draco smirked.

Harry went to his room, grumbling the whole way as he fetched a shirt and loose jogging bottoms. As he dressed, he heard Malfoy comment, “Not a bad place, Potter. A bit cramped for my tastes, but I assume it’s luxurious compared to what you’re used to. I heard you grew up in a cupboard.”

Harry paused, frowning at the dig towards his personal life. He shook his head, choosing to ignore Malfoy’s poor attempt at humour, and walked back into the sitting room once he finished. He had long since come to terms with the Dursleys’ absurdities, disturbing though they were.

“So tell me, Malfoy,” Harry said as he sat on the armchair close to his uninvited guest. “Why does the Ministry need my help after all these years?”

Draco cleared his throat and leaned forward uncertainly. “Actually … I may have stretched the truth a bit,” he admitted, nervously picking at a fingernail.

“I knew it!” Harry yelled, jumping up from his seat angrily. “You have one minute to get out of my flat before I grab my wand and hex your arse.”

Draco stood and waved his hands frantically. “Wait, wait! Just calm down, Potter; take it easy and wait to hear the whole story. I’m not here on Ministry orders, but for myself. The Ministry knows about this, though.”

“If I wasn’t planning on helping the Ministry; what makes you think I’d help _you_?” Harry hissed, crossing his arms.

Draco closed his eyes, trying to think of how to start. He brought a hand to his temple, rubbing the sudden ache away. This wasn’t exactly going according to plan. “You probably don’t know this, seeing as you _have_ been gone for almost a decade, but there have been murders--”

“So? What does any of this have to do with _me_?”

“If you’d just let me finish!” Draco scolded. “The people being murdered are ex-Death Eaters who were cleared of all charges and avoided being sentenced to Azkaban. There are only a few of You-Know-Who’s old supporters currently walking free. One of them being my own father,” Draco finished.

Harry frowned at this bit of information, sitting down heavily. They remained in uncomfortable silence before Harry broke it. “Let me get this straight,” he began, “you need my help to do what … find the ones murdering ex-Death Eaters? Or become your father’s personal bodyguard?” Harry asked, scowling at Malfoy.

There had to be more to all this than what Malfoy was saying. Wasn’t Malfoy an Auror himself? Couldn’t _he_ find the people responsible and take care of things without his help?

“There’s more to it than that,” Draco replied, evading Potter’s questions.

“Oh, of course there is, there _always_ is.” Harry griped, and slouched back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

“Look!” Draco crossly began. “You owe my mother for helping you escape You-Know-Who’s presence alive.” He saw the look of shock cross Potter’s face and smirked. “You thought she wouldn’t tell me what she did?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t. But I can’t believe you’re throwing that in my face to blackmail me,” he replied, glaring at Malfoy. “Listen, I’m going to need some time. I’m not going to decide this now; besides, I’m already late in opening up the shop.”

“You don’t have any staff helping you?” Draco asked incredulously.

“I didn’t say that,” Harry snapped. “My one other employee is currently on holiday.” Harry stood, picking his wand up from the coffee table and moved to the door. He waved his wand and focused hard on removing Malfoy’s wards and Protection Spells from around his flat, as it had been a few years since he had needed to do so. “Now, if you’re done, I’d like to get ready for work,” he announced, motioning to the open door.

Draco frowned and walked towards the door, stopping as he reached Potter. “I … never mind. Contact me with your decision, all right?” Draco waited until Potter reluctantly nodded his agreement before walking out of the flat.

Harry closed the door behind Malfoy, locked it and walked to the kitchen. He did need to get ready for work, but first he needed some coffee and maybe an aspirin. Everything was going fine with his life--business doing well, no one stalking him for autographs--until Malfoy waltzed back into it.

He didn’t know what he should do; he knew what the right decision was, but he didn’t know if he wanted to get involved. Yes, people were dying, but were the lives of ex-Death Eaters any more important than those of ordinary, proper wizards and witches? And who was he _really_ to choose who should live and who shouldn’t? Harry sighed forlornly and started the coffee. He’d have to think long and hard about whether to help or not.

***

A week later, Harry found himself exhausted. There must have been a party somewhere, because he’d not only run out of several different items, but he had to handle more customers than usual. He usually wasn’t _this_ busy until the holiday season.

Harry closed the door and locked it with a heavy sigh. He looked out of the front window before pulling out his wand and set about cleaning up and straightening the displays. Harry shook his head and thought idly to himself: why customers seemed to have a strong urge to rearrange his wares, he’d never know. (Honestly, the handcuffs didn’t belong with the lube!)

Half an hour later, with the shop neat and tidy, Harry eyed the place one last time to make sure he had everything done. He nodded to himself, satisfied with how everything looked, and switched off the lights next to the door. He couldn’t wait until Bethany came back from holiday: with the way things were of late, he desperately needed the help.

Just as Harry was about to turn the doorknob, he heard the sound of a throat clearing behind him. He froze, barely keeping himself from jumping a foot into the air. Hand gripping tightly around his wand, he whipped around, ready to fight back as he pointed it at the intruder, a hex on the tip of his tongue.

“Damn it, Malfoy!” he cried upon seeing who it was, barely stopping himself from hexing the blond anyway. “Could you _not_ do that? You almost gave me a heart attack!” Harry paused for a moment to calm down. “How the hell did you get in?”

Draco looked annoyed. “I Apparated, idiot. Look, it’s been nearly a week and I haven’t heard anything from you about what we’d discussed,” he replied, visibly irritated. “You were supposed to let me know your answer, remember?”

“Oh,” Harry said absently, lowering his wand. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I got caught up in work and it just slipped my mind.”

“Nice to see where your priorities lie, Potter,” Draco growled. “Well? Are you going to help, or will I be forced to shove that hideous anal contraption up _your_ arse?”

Harry sighed in frustration and rested his head back against the shop’s door. “You’re going to pester me until you get the answer you want, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Harry groaned, feeling bone weary. He sighed heavily as he opened his tired eyes. “Fine. I’ll help you. Now, can you please leave so I can actually go home and get some sleep?”

Draco huffed, but nodded. “As you wish, but we’ll have to begin early tomorrow, so put up a sign or whatever it is you must do to close your … _shop_. We mustn’t waste any more time,” Draco demanded. He sneered contemptuously at Potter before disappearing with a _pop_.

Harry stared at the spot Malfoy had stood, clenching his fists unconsciously in anger. _Damn, the man’s annoying!_ After a moment, he sighed out loud and went about setting things for his absence. He would have to wait until the next morning to visit the post office to send a letter to Bethany, letting her know she'd be in charge while he was away.

The last thing Harry wanted was for Bethany to come home early, but he’d just explain to her briefly what was happening.

With one last look around, Harry put up the sign:

  
_We will be closed until Wednesday._   


  


  
_Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause._   


  


  
_We thank you for your patronage._   


Nodding to himself, he Apparated home.

***

The next day, Harry stood nervously outside the entrance to the Ministry, working up the courage to go inside. It had been ten years since he’d last set foot in the building; times had been very different then. Earlier that morning, he’d woken up to the sounds of sharp tapping against his bedroom window. Harry hadn’t been surprised to find an owl hovering outside, a letter from Malfoy clasped in its talons. The message demanded he meet him in the Auror's office immediately.

“Why do I always let myself get talked into these things?” he mumbled to himself, smiling weakly at an old woman who’d walked past, raising an eyebrow at him before giving him wide berth.

Harry shrugged, walking over to the vandalised telephone box. It hadn’t changed since his fifth year. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out the little piece of parchment Malfoy sent with the owl to get him inside. Evidently, they’d changed the access number since then.

He unfolded the note and entered the five-digit number. A few moments passed before a familiar female voice greeted, “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Harry Potter, here to see Draco Malfoy in the Auror Office.” He stood there, idly questioning for the thousandth time why the Ministry wanted him, waiting, while the phone box decided whether it’d let him inside or not.

He startled upon hearing the bored sounding female voice. “Thank you. Please remove your badge from the coin return and affix it to your robes. Remember: you are required to hand over your wand to security for inspection and registration. Have a good day.”

“Yes, yes, I know, thank you.” Harry growled at the disembodied voice, as he looked down at the badge in his hand, reading the printed words:

  
**Harry Potter**   


  


  
**Auror Business**   


He rode the lift down until it stopped inside the main lobby of the Ministry. Witches and wizards were all milling about, heading to work, and going about their business. Harry wasn’t really paying much attention to them. He was more concerned with being so nervous; he’d been to the Ministry many times before and all of his memories were not very pleasant ones.

Harry stepped out of the phone box and headed to the far end of the Atrium, where he spent the next fifteen minutes getting his wand inspected and registered, not to mention being chatted up by the security officer, who kept staring at his forehead. Voldemort may have been long since dead, but Harry still had the ugly mark on his forehead, though he kept his fringe long to cover it. He’d thought about getting it removed, but each time he would back out, mostly because it was a reminder of the sacrifice his parents gave to keep him alive.

Once he was finished with the security checks, Harry made his way quickly to the lifts that would take him to the Auror Office. He squeezed inside the lift with half a dozen others, the usual paper airplanes hovering above their heads as they rode, and waited to be let off on his floor.

After a few long moments, Harry was only too glad to hear the female voice of the lift announce, “Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” as the doors rattled open and he walked out onto the floor, followed by two wizards, who moved past him.

Harry wandered down the hall until he came to a slightly opened door. He pushed it open further, relieved to find he was in the right area. There was Malfoy, sitting behind his desk, quill waving as he wrote something down on a piece of parchment. Harry wasn’t able to see what Malfoy was writing; perhaps, a letter to his mum? The mere thought had him pursing his lips to stop the laughter from bubbling through.

He leaned back against one of the desks, wondering if Malfoy would sense his presence immediately or not. The blond, however, seemed intent on his writing, as he hadn’t looked up once. Harry had to wonder what Malfoy was scribbling to capture his attention so deeply. After five minutes passed without an acknowledgement of his presence, Harry sighed impatiently and cleared his throat, waiting for Malfoy to notice.

Malfoy dropped his quill and finally looked up at Harry. “About time you got here,” he said with some edge, moving things about his desk before standing up.

“I was debating about whether or not I really wanted to come back here. Not a lot of good memories, you know,” Harry replied, crossing his arms as he frowned at Malfoy.

Draco ‘hmmed,’ before shrugging. “I don’t think anyone really has any fond memories of this place,” he said tiredly. “Come on; Shacklebolt’s waiting for us in his office.”

The two men made their way through the cluster of desks, Harry cursing under his breath as he banged his knee into the corner of one. He hadn’t been looking where he was going, instead gazing about the large office space, noting the other Aurors working at their tables, most of whom, he didn’t recognise. He almost ran into Malfoy when the blond came to a sudden stop. Malfoy knocked on the door before walking into Shacklebolt’s office at the “yes?” that greeted them.

“Ah, Harry,” Shacklebolt welcomed, getting up from his seat and extending his hand to him. “I’m very glad to see you after all these years.”

”Thank you; same here,” Harry replied, smiling a little at the Head Auror as he shook his hand.

“Right,” Shacklebolt began, sitting back down. “On to business. It’s come to my attention, that there have been several murders recently; mostly concerning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s old supporters.”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Malfoy told me about some of what was happening,” he began, throwing Malfoy an annoyed look, “but I’m almost certain he didn’t divulge all the necessary information.”

“Hmm, indeed,” Shacklebolt replied absently, looking disapprovingly at Draco. “Was there a reason for keeping Harry in the dark?” He steepled his hands together as he stared in disappointment at Draco.

Draco glanced at his boss. “Yes, sir. I didn’t think Potter would help with the case if I’d told him everything,” he said, looking at Potter out of the corner of his eye.

“Look,” Harry began, irritation radiating off him in thick waves. “What is so secretive that you couldn’t tell me?” He grew impatient when neither man spoke. “All right, if that’s the way it’s going to be …” Harry turned away, moving towards the door. He was fed up with all this secrecy. _If they were so desperate for my help,_ he angrily mused, _they should have trusted me from the very start._ All of their Auror stealth was making his head ache more than Mr Tisdale’s worst flirting. He was an inch away from the door when he felt someone grab his arm.

“Potter, wait.”

Harry spun around, wand in hand and aimed at Malfoy’s throat. “If you don’t let my arm go this instant, Malfoy, I’ll hex you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Harry,” Kingsley easily cut in, hands folded on his desk. Harry just knew he was enjoying this. Kingsley was probably still upset that he had decided not to become an Auror. He had enough of fighting and killing, thank you very much.

Harry took a few moments to calm before he lowered his wand, and moved back to Kingsley’s desk, Malfoy following behind. “Well?”

“Harry, it’s true that we need your help with the murders of ex-Death Eaters, but the main reason is…” Here, Kingsley paused, apparently not sure how to go on. He rubbed at his temple for a moment, a gesture that made Harry skeptically furrow his brow, before continuing. “There have been reports of Dark activities going on beneath the wizarding world’s collective nose. It seems there is someone out there … someone trying to follow in You-Know-Who’s vile footsteps.”

Harry’s eyes widened, blinking owlishly, first at Kingsley, then at Malfoy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he haltingly said, sitting down heavily into one of the chairs seated in front of Kingsley’s desk. “Say again?”

“You heard him, Potter,” Draco spat out impatiently before rolling his eyes at Kingsley. “This is exactly the reason why I didn’t tell you everything. Look at you, you’re ready to fall apart.”

But Harry wasn’t listening to Malfoy harp on; he was too shocked at what he was hearing. _Another_ Dark Lord? Was there something in the water that made wizards hell bent on genocide and world domination? Was there some force in the universe that required there to be an evil presence instead of good in the world? He just couldn’t believe this was happening… _again_. And so soon after Voldemort had been defeated. All those families, all those lives lost, and for what? Nothing at all?

Harry barely heard his name being called by Shacklebolt, so lost as he was in his own despair, until he felt Malfoy’s hand land sharply across his face. “Get a grip, Potter!” Malfoy whispered fiercely, shaking his hand from the slap he had divvied out. “We don’t have time to sit here and watch you fall to pieces. This isn’t You-Know-Who, and we don’t even know who this new prospective ruler is.”

“Wait a minute … did you just slap me?”

There was a long pause, during which Draco's mood went from persistent to boiling in record time.

“THIS ISN’T THE BLOODY TIME FOR SUCH TRIVIALITIES!” Draco bellowed in response.

Harry turned to Kingsley. “He slapped me,” he stated incredulously.

“Like a mediwizard to a newborn’s arse,” Kingsley replied, amused, as he nodded.

“You slapped me!” Harry accused, pointing at Malfoy.

“POTTER!”

Harry took a deep calming breath. “Okay, fine, but I still don’t understand why you need _me_ for this?”

“You have experience in dealing with psychotic madmen,” Draco replied with a shrug.

“Well … yes, but that still doesn’t answer my question,” Harry conceded, glancing at Kingsley, hoping the man would actually tell him something useful.

“We’ve had a few spies gather some information for us,” Kingsley stated, face blanking into professional mode to try and ease the situation. “We’re not sure why, but this man has his eyes set on you.”

“Me?” Harry asked, stunned. “Why is he targeting me? I haven’t been involved with the wizarding world for almost ten years.”

“We … don’t know,” Draco evaded, shifting his eyes to the side. “The only thing we do know is he’s hell bent on destroying you. We need you to help us; we think it’ll be easier to locate him if you tagged along.”

“Hang on. How exactly do you know this and why haven’t I been attacked since I’ve been living in the wide open in the Muggle world?” Harry asked as he looked from Malfoy to Kingsley.

Draco glanced at Kingsley, who sighed and nodded his head. “We … received a note, a few days ago, stating you were to be seen at all future crime scenes, or they would start killing Ministry workers’ families.”

Harry’s eyes widened at this piece of information. _I haven’t even been in contact with anyone from the wizarding world, except for Ron and Hermione. So, why in Merlin’s name is this person after **me**? What did I do?_ Harry had never heard of a more asinine way to get his attention. What was the bloody point?

He blinked suddenly and raised his head to look at Kingsley when he heard the man say, “I need you and Malfoy to go to this location tomorrow afternoon …” Kingsley trailed off as he fished under some files for two parchments, handing one to Harry and one to Draco. “Scout out the area and report back with anything unusual.”

Harry blanked out for a moment, reflexively taking the parchment from Shacklebolt. He numbly looked down at the words written on the page, a feeling of dread setting into his bones.

He knew he was in Kingsley’s office, with Malfoy of all people, and he knew it was sort of his calling in life to battle the forces of evil, to sound clichéd: but what he really wanted to know was why him? Was it too much to ask to just be plain, ordinary, Harry Potter?

Harry was finally brought out of his internal debate when he felt movement nearby. He looked up to see Malfoy and Kingsley staring at him. “I’m sorry?” he asked. Did one of them say something to him?

“I said, Potter,” Malfoy’s tone was disdainful and he made a gesture with his hand as if he were already bored with the whole thing. “It’s time to leave. I’ve got work I still need to complete before tomorrow, and you need to do whatever it is you do when you’re in the privacy of your own home, as scary as that thought is; what with the kind of shop you run.”

Harry glared at Malfoy, but stood up from his seat and addressed Shacklebolt. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” he promised, indicating what was written on the parchment. “Good day.” He turned and walked out of the office, not once looking back as he moved through the main office area, out of the door, and into the hall.

Draco was halfway out himself when Kingsley stopped him with a word. “Draco.” The blond sighed and turned to the other man, brow furrowed, an expectant look on his face. Kingsley was leaned all the way back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, dark eyes zeroed in on him, piercing. So unnerved by this behaviour; Draco had to stifle the urge to squirm in discomfort. “Take care of him.”

“Sir, I’m not his babysitter; he _can_ take care of himself.”

“As true as that may be, it’s your job as the Auror to make sure he comes back in one piece. He probably hasn’t had to really defend himself since he left the wizarding world,” Kingsley replied.

Draco frowned at this a moment before nodding curtly and walking out of the office.

***

The next morning, Harry stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rail as he shook his head, hearing the wet landing of water droplets on the tile as they flew from his hair. He breathed out tiredly as he dried himself off and tossed the towel over the curtain rail once he finished, walking into his bedroom to pull on his clothes. Harry brushed his hair, but as usual, his hair wouldn’t lie flat, so all he managed to do was get the tangles out.

Grabbing his glasses from the bedside table, Harry slid them on before going into the sitting room. He moved towards the door when he heard insistent knocking and opened it to reveal a foul-faced Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry greeted, walking away from the blond. “Punctual, I see.” He sneered as he made his way to the kitchen. "What, you didn't trust I'd turn up? I don't need an escort."

“Potter,” Draco replied, entering into the sitting room as he closed the door behind him. “You know we have to go soon. It’s a miracle you were ever able to get anywhere on time at school.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed a cup of coffee. “We’ll head out as soon as I’m finished,” he replied tetchily, taking a sip. He had no idea why they were always so snippy at each other when they were both grown men.

Why did he feel riled up and his hackles rise every time Malfoy came into view? Why couldn’t they get past it? Why did he wait for Malfoy to make the first move? Was it because it was fun? Familiar? Because he had Gryffindor blood? He sighed quietly to himself at this, wanting to bang his head against the nearest wall. He couldn’t explain it.

Draco scowled, and seriously wanted to destroy Potter, but Kingsley wouldn't like that. Instead, he decided on something more dignified. He casually sidled up to him, gloating at Potter's wary look, giving the man an innocent one of his own, and promptly knocked the cup out of his hands. He crossed his arms, smirking, and arched an eyebrow as Potter jumped back in shock, gasping as the hot coffee went everywhere. Draco stood back with a self-satisfied smirk as the dark-haired man looked at him aghast. “Ah, looks like you’re finished. Let’s go.”

“What the fuck was that for?” Harry cried, furiously swiping his hands down his clothes, as he sent out looks of death to Malfoy. He glared in fury as the blond leaned back against the counter, looking pleased with himself.

“Felt like it,” Draco supplied with a shrug, smirking at the fuming man. _Merlin, I feel like I’m a bloody teenager again. Potter always did bring out the worst in me._ “Now, clean yourself up—with _magic_ , Potter; I’ll not have you slowing us down with your antiquated Muggle methods. Unless, of course, you enjoy being, uh … all wet.” He turned to go back to the sitting room, leaving Potter standing in the kitchen to gawp at his retreating back.

Harry restrained himself from tackling Malfoy to the ground and banging his head into the floor. Instead, he took a deep breath, calming down, and waved his wand, cleaning up the floor and himself. Once finished, Harry walked into the sitting room to find Malfoy sitting on the sofa, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. “Let’s go, Malfoy. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to my life: the one without _you_ in it,” Harry snarled, arms crossed, as he glared at the blond.

“And what a fantastically tedious life it is, I’m sure,” Draco replied with a cheeky smirk.

Harry scoffed at him. “You’re a real pain in the arse,” he said before Apparating to their destination.

“I’m sure you’d know all about pains in the arse.” Draco snorted, trying to keep himself from laughing outright. He let a smug expression cross his features, amused by Potter’s antics before he followed after him.

***

They found themselves in Grimsby, near an old abandoned port. Harry wrinkled his nose at the faint smell of fish radiating from the building. He didn’t see anyone near where they reappeared, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people around.

“All right, Mr Auror,” Harry whispered sardonically, “What do we do now?”

“Have you been out of the loop so long that you can’t remember?” Draco asked incredulously. “Honestly, I don’t know how you survived so long without any plans.”

“Usually, Hermione was the one with all the plans. I just ran head long into a situation,” Harry replied awkwardly.

“So I see,” Draco murmured, rolling his eyes. “We’ll need to scout out the area first, not run inside with wands blazing. Which I’m quite sure you’re used to doing.” Draco stepped to the side, looking around them a moment before closing his eyes.

Harry watched in astonishment, fascinated as Malfoy began to shrink, his skin taking on a greyish hue. He saw what looked like feathers beginning to sprout from Malfoy’s hair, giving him a unique, almost ethereal look. His eyes widened as Malfoy’s grey eyes shot open, changing colour, and turning an almost bright shade of red. After a few moments, where Malfoy had stood, was now a magnificent creature. Harry wasn’t sure what type of bird Malfoy had transformed into, but it was quite beautiful.

He blinked at Malfoy when he let out a rapidly repeated _kiu-kiu-kiu_ at him, flapping his wings. Harry wasn’t sure what he wanted, but held out his arm as he used to do with Hedwig. He was only slightly taken aback when Malfoy flew up and landed onto his outstretched arm, being careful not to dig his talons into him, he assumed by the way Malfoy barely gripped him. “Malfoy,” he whispered softly, “I have to admit: I’m actually surprised you’re a bird Animagus.”

Malfoy tilted his head in response, giving Harry the avian version of The Eye. He let out another sharp _kiu-kiu-kiu_ at Harry before flying off, high into the sky, keen eyes searching the area. He circled around the perimeter of the building a few times, but didn’t spot anything amiss. There were no people milling around; no evidence of anything unusual transpiring.

He soared back around once before heading for Potter. As soon as he reached the dark-haired man, he began shifting back to his human form, growing taller and fuller, feathers receding back into his body, and eyes changing back to grey from red. Draco rolled his neck once the transformation was complete, stretching his muscles. He opened his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows at the look Potter threw him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Harry quickly replied, giving Malfoy an odd look. “So, what type of bird are you?”

“My Animagus form is a hawk,” Draco said with pride. “I’m not sure of the exact species.”

“It fits,” Harry replied, looking off toward the abandoned building. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. What’d you mean by, ‘it fits’?” he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Nothing?” Harry asked suspiciously, frowning at Malfoy.

“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Draco said, annoyed that Potter hadn’t answered his question. “We should move inside; there may be something in there.” He turned and started heading towards the building without waiting for Potter.

Harry sighed, following after. They snuck towards the building very carefully, in case anyone happened to walk by. Even if Malfoy said he hadn’t seen anyone, that didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone around. Malfoy moved forward, gesturing with his hands that he’d go first through the entrance where the door was barely hanging onto its hinges. Harry nodded at this, and waited for him to go inside, looking around, his ears straining to pick up any strange sounds. When he didn’t hear anything odd, he followed after Malfoy.

The inside of the building was dark, making it hard to see anything. Harry was about to light up his wand when he was caught by surprise. His body arched as a Stunner spell hit him in the middle of his back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

***

Harry woke up to carried whispers sounding from above him. He moaned as the bump on his forehead began to throb dully in harmony with the buzzing of the voices. He went to move his hand to rub his head, only to find they were secured behind his back. He turned his head and found Malfoy beside him. Their captors must have searched his and Malfoy’s bodies for their wands, and even if they tried to Summon them, the charm wouldn’t work.

“Oh, look, he’s awake.” Harry heard a voice growl from nearby. He slowly lifted his head to see who was speaking when his hair was grabbed and his head yanked back, causing stars to burst in his line of sight, and a hiss of pain to pass his lips.

“Leave him alone, he doesn’t know anything!” Harry heard Malfoy growl from nearby as he struggled against his bonds. He almost wanted to sob in relief when his hair was just as suddenly released.

He heard Malfoy gasp and turned with some difficulty to see what caused it. He assumed one of the men--who Harry didn’t recognise--had backhanded Malfoy across the face, if the slight red mark was anything to go by. “ _We’ll_ decide who knows what, not _you_ ,” the man snapped, moving away from them.

Harry turned as much as his restraints would allow, trying to follow the movements of the men, hoping neither of the two would suddenly do something painful … or worse.

“What’s the plan, Edgar?” one man asked. Harry didn’t know what they were talking about, but he knew it might help Kingsley and the others if they found out as much as they could, keeping track of their physical features, personalities and such. He hoped Malfoy was doing the same.

The man named Edgar crossed his arms and glared down at Harry and Draco. “The boss said to keep them here until he arrives. But you know the boss, Jeff,” Edgar said, leering in their direction. “Likes to take his time. So what do you say we have a bit of fun with these two?”

Harry kept his face expressionless, but he couldn’t help but wonder what the two men had in mind. Torture? Beatings? He might own a fetish shop, specialising in bondage and discipline toys, but that was for fun. _This_ , he knew, would be anything but. He turned his head towards Malfoy, trying to gauge his reaction; it seemed he had the same thoughts running through his head as Harry had, if his expression and body language was anything to go by.

“Edgar,” the other man, Jeff, said worriedly, “you know what the boss would do to us if we touched them. I don’t know about you, mate, but I’m not taking the chance.”

Edgar hummed a moment before nodding. “There is that,” he replied thoughtfully. “ _We_ can’t touch them, but there’s nothing saying they can’t touch each other, right?”

Jeff seemed to be thinking this over, before a smirk graced his lips. “Yes, quite.”

As if they planned it, they faced Harry and Draco as one. Harry frowned at the lustful looks dancing across both men’s faces, not liking where this was going. He wracked his brain, trying to work out what they were thinking. _What are they planning?_ he thought, eyeing the two men warily. _I don’t like the looks they’re giving us. Is Malfoy noticing this too?_ He glanced sidelong at the blond man beside him, but couldn’t tell what he was thinking; his expression only showed anger. _Wait a minute. Do they expect us to…?_ After coming to a conclusion about what could have put those looks on the faces of their captors, Harry’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm. “No!”

Draco looked at Potter like he’d suddenly lost his mind. “What?” he whispered fiercely, watching the men from the corner of his eye.

“They’re going to make us shag!” Harry replied in alarm, not looking at the blond, using all his might to try and break out of the restraints with no luck. No way was he going to shag Malfoy. He may not have been bad looking, but he drew the line at exhibitionism, especially when the viewers were two psychotic wankers!

“ _What?!_ ” Draco cried indignantly, whipping his head around to glare at their smirking captors. “There’s no way in bloody _hell_ I’m shagging either of you … bastards!” He began twisting, trying fiercely to undo his bonds with no success.

“We don’t care what you want, blondie,” Edgar snapped, advancing on them. “Besides, it’s not _us_ you’ll be shagging.”

“Then who or what…?” Draco asked apprehensively, hoping the men didn’t decide to bring in a dog or something equally dreadful.

“Him,” Jeff replied simply, pointing to Harry, who’d remained quiet as he stared in fury at the two men.

“Even worse,” Draco muttered darkly, getting a glower from Potter in return.

Edgar shrugged. “Fine, then; have it your way.” He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry, viciously growling, “ _Crucio_!”

Harry screamed, feeling the bonds cutting into his jerking wrists, his body thrashing about. The pain was unbearable, his vision, going red, as his body felt like it was on fire; he wanted nothing more than to die, right here, right now. He’d experienced the curse many times before in his short life, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Draco, meanwhile, closed his eyes tightly, wincing at the screams coming from Potter. He was stronger than this; he would not let these madmen dictate whom he shagged and didn’t shag. Especially, not while the two men watched him, goading him on while they had their little wankfest.

Sweat poured in rivulets from his face, his breath coming out in harsh puffs as Draco worked feverishly at his restraints, but to no avail: they were too tightly wound around his wrists. He tried to block out Potter’s shrieking, but he just couldn’t. It hit too close to home, bringing old memories surging forward of You-Know-Who taking over his parents’ mansion, torturing his followers, threatening his mother and father.

Visions of having to watch people being tortured, even _killed_ right in front of him, making him want to run; wishing he didn’t have to stay there with the Dark Lord and his followers, but having no choice. He _had_ to, to ensure no harm came to his parents. Draco inwardly cringed as the past’s cries of the tortured faithful rang shrilly in his ears … and now there was Potter’s joining the chorus.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. “Stop! Stop, I’ll do it, just stop!”

Harry was on the cusp of blacking out, voice going raw from screaming, body aching from the tight ball he kept curling and uncurling from. He almost cried in relief when the curse was suddenly removed after Malfoy shouted.

“Thought that might change your mind,” Edgar hissed, twirling his wand in his hand thoughtlessly before pointing it at Harry. “I want him on his knees, face to the floor. Don’t worry about removing your clothes all the way. Down around the ankles will do fine, I think.”

Harry took slow, deep breaths to relax his muscles, which had cramped up due to the curse’s effects. He’d heard everything the others had said, and was cursing that they had been caught. It wasn’t that he thought Malfoy was ugly, far from it, but this was no way for two people to have sex. Besides, they couldn’t even stand each other.

The shorter of the two, Jeff, waved his wand, removing Draco’s restraints. Draco immediately flinched away, curling himself into a ball, shivering, barely feeling the blood rushing back into his slightly numb wrists. He was lost in his own inner turmoil until he felt Potter brush up against his side, reflex causing him to recoil.

“Malfoy?” He heard Potter whisper softly down to him, and blinked as he came back to himself. He sat up slowly, turning to face the man next to him before he reached out to Potter, intent on removing his restraints. Draco froze, jerking back as a wand was pressed into his face.

“He stays tied. I’m sure you can work around that,” Edgar sneered, smirking down at him and Potter.

Draco glowered venomously at Edgar, hatred radiating off him, as he nodded. He reached for the fastenings to Potter’s trousers, face only a few inches from his. “I’m sorry, Potter,” Draco whispered softly, regret evident in his tone, hating what he was about to do.

Harry smiled sadly at Malfoy, feeling the sting of sweat in his eyes. “I understand. It’s all right, really,” he quietly replied, resigning himself to what was about to happen.

He closed his eyes as Malfoy unfastened his trousers, spreading the material open. Harry lifted his arse off the concrete floor, allowing for Malfoy to pull his trousers and boxers down around his ankles more easily.

Draco helped position Potter onto his knees, arse in the air, cheek pressed to the cold ground while his hands remained tied behind his back. As much as he hated Potter with a burning passion, he couldn’t help but be gentle as he made sure the ex-Gryffindor was as comfortable as possible.

Draco paused only a moment before removing his robes, and placing them to the side as he worked open his own trousers’ fastenings. He pulled them wide open, pushing them down his hips a little, and looked down at his semi-erect cock poking out. Draco wasn’t surprised his cock wasn’t very interested in what it’d be taking part in.

“Get on with it!” Edgar shouted impatiently.

Draco gasped and drew back as he felt the poke of a wand against his back. He didn’t want to do this, he wanted to scream, but he balled his fists in anger as he tried desperately to ignore Edgar’s prodding. Draco wanted to jump up and smash the arsehole’s face in. He wanted nothing more than to be back at the Ministry, filling out tedious paperwork and working on uneventful cases, not kneeling on the cold concrete ground of an abandoned building, staring down at Potter’s form. He didn’t care if he _was_ a wizard and physical fighting was beneath him, he was just so … _angry_.

Their imprisoners were making him violate Potter. No matter how much he may have disliked Potter during their school years together, that didn’t mean he wanted to rape him.

Harry closed his eyes, waiting for Malfoy to hurry up and get it over with. He couldn’t believe they’d got themselves into this situation with no way to contact the other Aurors. They couldn’t make a run for it while their captors still had their wands, pointing their own at them, the Killing Curse just an utterance away, waiting to snuff them out.

Draco couldn’t help the blush that blossomed across his cheeks, knowing that he and Potter had an audience. He tore his gaze from Potter’s raised arse, glaring at their captors’ smirking faces. “I’m going to need some type of lube, if you two want this to happen—” he snarled, nostrils flaring in fury.

“He doesn’t need any,” Edgar laughingly replied. “Just shove it in.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, lips pursing in anger. He turned back to Potter, trying to think of something else he could use: he wasn’t about to shove his dry cock into him. The only thing Draco could think to use made him want to throw something across the room, but he couldn’t do that without making the situation worse, so he scooted forward on his knees, trying hard not to stare at Potter’s waiting arse, and concentrated on putting everything but themselves out of his mind. He leaned down, hesitating a moment, until he felt a sharp kick to his booted foot from one of the men. Steeling his resolve, Draco moved closer, sticking his tongue out.

Harry didn’t know what was going on inside Malfoy’s mind to make him shift behind him, taking his time as if he had nothing better to do than to linger. He knew their imprisoners were watching them avidly, most likely leering at them from where they stood.

But he couldn’t help the sudden gasp that escaped his lips at the sensation of the first tentative lick along his exposed arse. He shut his eyes tightly as he felt Malfoy poking his tongue inside, thrusting it deeper and deeper as far as it could go. Feeling his hole being stretched wide by two fingers, pulling in opposite directions. He felt his cock harden at the stimulation, his nerve endings on fire as the ring of muscle was sucked into the blond’s mouth, occasional nips that were driving Harry wild.

He felt Malfoy nudging his cheeks apart as he continued his relentless licking, moistening him for what was to come. A few times, he caught himself pushing back against Malfoy’s tongue, moaning and panting at the sensations running through his body—he couldn’t help himself, it felt so good, even though it left him feeling hollow.

Draco continued to mouth Potter’s hole, making a face occasionally at the bitter taste that assaulted his tongue on each pass. He felt even more humiliated than he had been at finding himself getting hard just from this act alone. He finally pulled back once he deemed the dark-haired man as ready as he was likely going to become.

He wanted to throw up, preferably on the two men watching them, as he heard the distinct sound of zips being lowered; he just knew, without having to look up, that they were getting off on watching them. Draco cupped his hand under his mouth and spat into it, bringing his hand down to his cock.

Draco fisted his cock with his spit-soaked hand, getting it as slick as he could. He raised his hand to Potter’s arse, wiping what was left of his saliva along his hole, adding the extra lubrication there to hopefully ease his way. Draco moved his body even closer to the other man’s, and took hold of his cock once more, stroking it a few times before using his hand to guide himself to Potter’s opening.

Harry held his breath as he felt Malfoy push his way inside, past the tight ring of muscle, trying to force the intruder back out. Harry was no virgin, but he wasn’t a slut who whored himself out to any man with a thick cock and a winning smile. Because of this, he grimaced, grunting out in pain as Malfoy pushed himself in until his sac was nestled against Harry’s arse.

Draco paused for only a moment before he began to move, slowly and steadily, trying not to hurt Potter. He didn’t want to do this, but he’d been ordered by Shacklebolt to keep the man safe, and right now he was failing that duty.

“I didn’t say make love to him,” Edgar snapped. “Fuck him! Go on!”

Draco’s grip on Potter’s hips tightened at this. He leaned over, hearing Potter gasp as his cock shifted inside of him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered down at him.

“I can take it. Just do it and get it over with,” Harry whispered back.

Harry took a shaky breath as he felt Malfoy begin to pick up speed as his thrusts grew harder and faster. Harry felt Malfoy tighten his hold, almost hard enough to bruise, pulling him back each time the blond thrust forward.

Draco clutched Potter’s hips as he continued to set his bruising pace, snapping his hips forward, connecting loudly, sac slapping against sac. His thrusting became more desperate with each push forward, trying to lose himself in what he was doing, making Potter cry out, no doubt making him rub his face against the cold concrete floor, leaving scrapes along his cheek and temple. Draco lost himself as he kept pushing and pulling, ignoring everything but the tight heat gripping at his cock.

Harry couldn’t take the rapid thrusting any longer, crying out as Malfoy hit his prostate; he squirmed, moving forward, only to be dragged back onto Malfoy’s cock as he was pulled towards him again. Harry’s gasping quickly became moans, whimpering as the spit finally began to evaporate, leaving him open to a dry shag. He grimaced, fighting the cries he wanted to utter as he felt the friction, the pulling against his anus each time Malfoy withdrew or pushed back in. He tried tightening his muscles each time Malfoy moved, trying to make the man behind him come faster. It seemed to be working somewhat, if the noises Malfoy was beginning to make were any indication of how close he was to finishing.

Harry could hear their imprisoners’ panting breaths as he and Malfoy got closer and closer to their own release. It was disgusting listening to the other men wanking to their coupling, no doubt wanting to join in and use each of them as their own playthings.

The blond gasped out loud as Potter bore down on his cock, making the friction that much more intense. After a few more hard thrusts, Draco came in long, hot spurts, feeling as though his very life was dribbling out of his cock. He collapsed over Potter’s back, trying desperately to catch his breath when he was unceremoniously yanked away from the tightness of Potter’s body. He heard him gasp at the same time he was pulled away and sat there, weary and helpless, wet and sticky cock hanging out of his trousers, as his wrists were rebound behind his back.

Harry straightened himself out, lying flat on the cold concrete, hissing lightly as the cool floor came into contact with his cock. He quickly rolled over, sitting up as best he could. With trousers still dangling from his ankles, he felt Malfoy’s come oozing out of his abused arse.

Harry and Draco both stared angrily up at their captors, who seemed to find something funny about their nudity.

Smirking, Edgar tucked himself away. “That was nice. I think I’ll ask the boss if he’ll let me watch you two go at it again before he gets his hands on you. Let’s go, Jeff. The boss’ll be here any minute and we haven’t, uh … _finished that job_ yet.”

Jeff glanced at the two of them before turning to nod at his partner. “All right. What about them? Want me to pull their trousers back on?”

“Nah, I think the boss will enjoy seeing them like this. Come on,” said Edgar, walking out of the room with Jeff in tow, leaving them alone.

Harry watched the two men leave the room before turning to address his companion. “Malfoy?”

“…What?” Draco replied after a few long moments, face slack as if he’d been placed under the Imperius Curse, staring off into space.

“Are-are you all right?” Harry asked, worry evident in his tone as he looked over Malfoy’s hunched form. He wasn’t sure what happened earlier, but he hoped Malfoy would be able to come out of it long enough for them to escape before those wankers returned.

Draco took a noisy breath in through his nose. “I’m _fine_ , Potter,” he tersely answered, clearly avoiding his gaze.

Harry pulled back from Malfoy as if he’d been struck in the face, blinking, and wondering what in Merlin’s name was wrong with the blond. It was a humiliating experience, of course it was, but was there something deeper Malfoy felt? Harry sighed, shaking his head. He’d let Malfoy’s behaviour go … for now. Right now, they needed to get out of here quickly.

They sat silently for a while, Draco thinking about what just happened. He hated having felt weak in the face of their captors and Potter, but it had all come flooding back to him. He was upset, but he was a fully trained Auror, and they needed to find a way to escape without being detected. They couldn’t afford to sit there, bound and helpless, waiting for this ‘boss’ to come for them.

After a moment, Draco broke the silence. “We have to get out of here. I have a plan, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to release you from your bonds. They used a Sticking Charm to keep anyone but themselves from being able to remove them.”

Silence.

“Potter?” Draco enquired, frowning when he didn’t get a response from him. “Are you…?”

He turned to see what had made Potter go quiet so suddenly. He jumped in shock when he spied a red fox standing where Potter had been seated. “Potter? Is-is that you?” He shook his head, making a face and was inwardly relieved when Harry moved closer, licking him. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Draco closed his eyes, feeling the transformation taking over, his body becoming smaller, more compact, his bones shifting and lightening, becoming hollow, turning him into a hawk. Once he finished, the ties fell away, now much too large for their smaller bodies.

Draco let out a _kiu-kiu-kiu_ at Harry, flapping his wings to get his attention.

Harry yipped softly at him, sniffing the air, trying to locate where their captors were holed up. Harry caught the scent of the men on the air, growling low in his throat before taking off in the direction the smell was coming from.

Draco flapped his wings, lifting up from the floor to hover in the air, following after Harry, who was slinking close to the floor as they reached the room the men were currently in. Harry looked around the room to find the two men asleep. _I suppose they finished the job they had to do._

Draco landed next to Potter, tilting his head to the side to look at him, waiting for a sign as to what he had planned.

Harry snuffled at Draco before he sniffed the air once more, trying to locate where their wands were held, smelling the distinct wood of their wands, their unique odour over those of their captors. Once he picked up the scent, he slinked quietly across the room to the table where their wands were placed. His ears twitched, listening for any sudden sounds, footsteps, or voices, besides the soft snores coming from the sleeping men.

Harry stood on his hind legs, front paws clawing atop the table as he grabbed his and Malfoy’s wands, clutching them in his jaws. Draco stood guard in case the men woke up. With both wands in his mouth, Harry dropped down onto all fours, turning to head out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible as one of the men began to stir. Once Harry had both wands, they’d tried Apparating out of the building with no success, so he’d assumed the building had an anti-Apparating field around it.

They made their way posthaste to the exit, Harry glad he couldn’t sense any others in the building. He had never been so happy to smell the rank stench of fish and sea air as he was at that moment. They continued through the area, running and flying down streets, moving between buildings, not stopping until they had both flown and ran miles from the abandoned fishing port and far away from the two men.

When they stopped near a cluster of trees, careful to hide their current forms from view, Harry was the first to transform back into his human form. He felt himself growing bigger, felt the fur that was covering him, recede back into his body. As soon as he found himself human once more, he found that his trousers and boxers were still tangled up around his ankles. He bent over and quickly pulled them up, fastening them before sitting heavily onto the grassy ground. He winced slightly at the soreness he felt radiating from his arse, a reminder of their ordeal.

Draco finished shifting back into his human form right after Harry had, fastening his trousers together as well. Once he finished, he sat down next to Harry, leaning back on his hands, his legs straight out in front of him, staring out at the grassy fields and trees. Draco knew they should head back to the Ministry as soon as possible, but he needed the time to collect his thoughts and strengthen his determination before reporting back to Kingsley. Besides, they were miles away from where they left the two men, so he didn’t feel the need to hurry back right away.

They both sat in silence, looking out at the scenery, lost in their thoughts. After a moment, Draco spoke. “Potter, I … wanted to apologise … about earlier.”

“Malfoy,” Harry started, “there’s nothing to apologise for.” He turned to face the visibly upset Auror. “You did what you had to do. If you hadn’t, they would have either tortured me into insanity, or they would have killed us.”

Draco smiled lightly in gratitude, feeling slightly better. He had been forgiven. The memories that had been triggered from earlier still weighed heavily on his mind; the screams of You-Know-Who's tortured victims that still echoed in the Manor now echoed in his ears, repeating and ten times louder, nearly crippling him.

But they had a job to do. There were still murders happening and his parents were still possible targets. He clenched his fists to keep them from shaking, gritting his teeth as he dug deep inside himself to find his resolve. He had to be strong: he was an Auror, a professional, and they had to get going very soon to report back their findings … even if it hadn’t been much.

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, trying not to stare, seeing that Malfoy had somewhat forgiven himself. He had a vague idea as to why Malfoy had acted the way he had, freaking out and shouting for them to stop.

Harry’s memories shifted to their sixth year when Malfoy had been under intense emotional stress, and how he had found the then younger Slytherin actually crying in Myrtle’s bathroom. Harry remembered Malfoy hadn’t been able to kill Dumbledore when he’d had the chance. Though, now, he no longer saw Malfoy in the same light as he had then.

Harry blew out a quiet breath, lost in old memories he’d thought he had long forgotten. Malfoy was more than likely suffering from past demons, just as he was.

Ten years, and it still hadn’t got any better … for either of them.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Malfoy shift next to him.

“So, Potter,” Draco began, looking at him a moment. “You’re an Animagus, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied warily, continuing to stare out at the scenery, unable to look at Malfoy.

“Hmm, I assume you’re unregistered since I never saw your name in the books.” Draco leaned forward over his knees. “Any reason why?”

Harry sighed forlornly. “After the war, I felt … changed. Not myself. I don’t know why I decided to become an Animagus. Maybe it was because of Sirius, or it could have been I felt I needed an advantage in the unlikely event someone decided to come after me for revenge,” he said, turning to glance at Malfoy before continuing. “I never bothered to register, mostly as a way to keep the element of surprise in my corner. If people knew I could do so, it would have been a waste of time in using it as an advantage.” He shrugged before falling quiet once more.

Draco hummed to himself, thinking over what Potter said. He had a vague understanding to the reason why Potter hadn’t told anyone, and he wasn’t so crass to tell the Ministry something that wasn’t any of their business. He knew Potter wouldn’t use his form for any wrongdoing, so he would remain quiet about it. What the Ministry didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, after all.

Draco stood up then, brushing bits of grass from his trousers. “Let’s go, Potter. Those men might have woken up by now and may be trying to find us.” He said, extending a hand to Potter, helping him to his feet.

“We do need to head back,” Harry replied, nodding at Malfoy, averting his gaze from the blond’s. It wasn’t something either of them would get over in only a few moments, with forgiveness and smiles.

Harry wasn’t sure if he could go on if things like this were going to be a frequent occurrence, if he could continue helping Malfoy and the Ministry with finding who or what was responsible for the latest murders. Did he have the resolve, the legendary Gryffindor courage, to keep pressing forward to find those accountable? He sighed inwardly, hoping he’d have the strength, the drive to keep going.

Draco wasn’t able to look at Potter for very long before the memories came rushing in like water from a broken dam. It would be difficult to work with someone he’d raped, and he still thought of it as rape, regardless of what Potter said; no matter how important the task. He turned his back towards the other man before Apparating away, leaving him behind.

Harry heaved a weighty sigh of his own, wanting to roll his eyes in exasperation as Malfoy left him alone once again. He looked off into the distance a moment, trying to clear his thoughts as he prepared to Apparate away. He thought he heard a dog barking in the distance, reminding him of his godfather—before he disappeared from the grassy countryside on his way to the Ministry.

***

Harry and Draco reappeared in an area concealed from Muggles, just outside the Ministry. They took the main entrance into the building, bypassing security, which Harry was pleased about since he was in no mood to be chatted up again.

As they quickly made their way to the lifts, Harry noticed Malfoy’s stiff shoulders and deliberate fast pace as they walked. He hoped the other man got over whatever demons he seemed to be fighting internally. Yes, they’d had a horrendous experience, but Harry didn’t think he’d be able to continue working with the man if he was going to remain upset about it.

Once the lift arrived, they went inside, riding it until it stopped on their floor. The two of them remained quiet as they walked down the hall, making their way to Kingsley’s office. Draco took a deep calming breath before knocking, and waited until he heard Shacklebolt welcome them with “come in” before walking inside, Harry right behind him.

“What did you find?” Kingsley immediately enquired, reclining back in his chair.

“We think we found some of this rising Dark Lord’s followers,” Draco began, sitting down in one of the chairs across from Kingsley’s desk, keeping himself as far from any physical contact as he could without being obvious about it.

“Oh? What makes you so sure?” Shacklebolt asked with curiosity, leaning forward.

Draco sat back a little, flinching slightly when Kingsley got a little too close for comfort. “Well … when they held us captive for a few hours, they kept talking about their ‘boss’.”

“Wait a moment,” Kingsley interrupted in alarm. “The two of you were held hostage? Are you both all right?”

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of how to answer. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words to say, but he came up blank. He was saved from the inquisitive look Shacklebolt threw at him, when Potter spoke up. “We’re fine. Nothing to keep us up at night. Right, Malfoy?”

Draco blinked questioningly at Potter, keeping his face blank when the dark-haired man wouldn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t blame the man for not wanting to dwell on what happened between them. He wasn’t very comfortable knowing he’d done _that_ with Potter himself. The sex, in and of itself, hadn’t been bad, but the humiliation, feeling like he was just a plaything to be used by others; it _had_ been too much for either of them.

“I see,” Kingsley said skeptically, eyeing the two men strangely.

“We really didn’t learn much,” Draco started again, looking up from his stare of the desktop to meet Kingsley’s gaze when he had to. “There were only two of them and they never named who this ‘boss’ was. Although, we did get _their_ names: Edgar and Jeff.”

Kingsley nodded, moving a folder aside to pull out a file from underneath. “While you two were investigating in Grimsby, there was another murder. I’m sending you and Harry out to investigate the scene.”

“ _Another_ murder?” Harry asked in disbelief. He couldn’t believe another person was dead. This new person, trying to become the next Dark Lord, was picking off ex-Death Eaters left and right, but for what reason? Harry just couldn’t comprehend anything at this point. Did this person think the ex-followers would go against him?

“Yes. This one happened in Crawley.”

“ _Crawley_?” Draco asked in disbelief. “What’s in Crawley?”

Kingsley cleared his throat and read through the report again. “Seems the murder happened at an establishment called Club Infinity.”

“Hang on, I know that club,” Harry murmured distractedly, looking off in the distance.

Draco turned to him, perplexed. “What’s Club Infinity?” When Potter didn’t answer straight away, Draco turned to Shacklebolt. “Well?”

Kingsley looked over at Harry a moment before answering, “It’s a fetish club.”

“A wizard sex club in _Crawley_?” Draco asked incredulously. “Wizards wouldn’t open one in the middle of a Muggle city.”

“It’s not a wizard-owned club. It’s Muggle,” Harry answered suddenly, turning to look at Malfoy.

Draco leaned back to get a good look at Potter, eyebrows twitching at this bit of information. “And you’d know this because…?”

“Because,” Harry began with a sigh, “a few years back I frequented the club on an almost nightly basis.”

“Potter!” Draco cried in feigned shock. “I always knew you were a perverted miscreant.” Draco smirked at Potter’s icy stare.

“You know, Malfoy,” Harry began, tone conversational, “if you got out more often and took that stick out of your arse, you might just be likable. But, alas,” he sighed, shaking his head as if he were truly disappointed. “You will always be a prude.”

“I’ll have you know—“

“Gentlemen!” Kingsley swiftly interrupted. “I need the two of you to head to Crawley now. Note anything unusual and report back to me. Think you two can get along long enough to do this?”

“Yes, sir,” Draco replied petulantly, arms crossed and a sigh escaping his lips as he stared at Potter.

Harry almost knocked his chair over as he quickly stood up. “Fine,” he snapped, scowling at both men. “The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and forget any of this ever happened.” He moved to the door, slamming it behind him as he walked out.

Draco shook his head, staring after Potter’s retreating form. Why did Potter have to be such an annoying little oik? All he ever did was complain and throw tantrums. One would almost think the man was seven instead of twenty-seven. After a moment, Draco stood up as well, turning to look at his supervisor. “Sir,” he acknowledged to Kingsley before following after the insufferable man.

***

They appeared on the outskirts of town, outside the presence of any Muggles that might have been in the area. They made their way quickly down the dirt path towards the town of Crawley, heading towards the entrance of Club Infinity.

“There’re a lot of people around here for an Auror-run investigation,” Harry commented, looking around at all the law enforcement present.

Draco scanned the area, spotting a few familiar faces in the investigational support: a few people he knew to be Muggle liaisons. “Some of them are undercover Aurors; you can tell they’re wizarding folk by the way they don’t quite blend in. The others are Muggles,” Draco explained, glancing sidelong at Harry.

Harry hummed quietly to himself as he looked around the building. “Let’s find who’s in charge here and talk to them.”

Draco looked at the parchment he pulled from his trouser pocket. “Officer Jameson—oh,” he stopped short, a look of recognition on his face. “He’s one of the Muggle liaison officers.” He scanned the faces milling around, spotting Jameson near the entrance. “I see him over there,” he said, pointing at one of the men. “Come on.”

As they moved closer, Harry looked up at the front of the building. He felt a twinge of nostalgia as he gazed up at the gaudy neon sign, the words Club Infinity flashing on and off; right below it, on the front of the building itself, was a huge, black infinity symbol.

They pushed through Aurors and Muggle investigative officers, working their way to the person Malfoy had pointed out. “Taylor,” Draco called, and the man turned at his name.

Jameson smiled grimly at Draco. “Draco, fancy meeting you here,” he greeted, looking from Draco to Harry. “Who’s your friend?”

“He’s not a friend, he’s a … uh … colleague.”

“All right,” Jameson accepted, raising an amused eyebrow at Draco. He held his hand out to Harry. “Name’s Taylor Jameson. And you are…?”

“Harry. Harry Potter.” He introduced, shaking Jameson’s hand in return. Harry couldn't help but stare at the man: Jameson was taller than him, with an athletic build. His hair was black and short, and his eyes, blue-green; he looked altogether too familiar to Harry.

Jameson blinked, his eyes shifting to Draco. “So _this_ is the one, huh?” he eyed Harry appreciatively. “I can see why.”

“Excuse me?” Harry asked in confusion. He didn’t like the way the man was looking at him as if he was giving Malfoy his approval. Though Harry couldn’t fathom why Malfoy would need his blessing to be his defacto partner. “What do you mean by ‘this is the one’?”

“Draco talked about you constantly. ‘Potter this and Potter that.’ Was quite annoying actually,” Jameson replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Really?” Harry said in disbelief, turning to give Malfoy an amused look.

Draco stepped back, laughing nervously at Harry while shooting Jameson a warning look. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Potter,” he said quickly, addressing the dark-haired man.

“Okay,” Jameson began, giving Draco a knowing look. “I’m obviously mistaken.” He looked pensive a moment before he changed the subject. “So, Draco, how much do you know about what happened here?”

“Not much. I do know that another ex-Death Eater was murdered. What I don’t understand, is what he was doing at an obviously _Muggle_ owned and run club.”

“We don’t know at the moment. Kingsley sent me an owl earlier, telling me to come here,” Jameson said, laughing suddenly. “You wouldn’t believe what my partner thought about that. Had to tell him it was an experiment to see if owls could replace carrier pigeons...!”

While Malfoy and Jameson were laughing, Harry moved away from them and headed towards the entrance of the club. There were officers walking in and out of the building, going about their investigation as he moved past them. Seemed that nothing had changed since he was last here, judging by the look of things. The dance floor was still the same as it always was; worn wooden floor, DJ booth up front. Light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, which pulsed to the music.

He looked around the club, spotting the bar to his right, and shook his head, remembering the times he sat there, nursing a drink, waiting for a sexy bloke to come by. The wry grin stretching across his face fell flat into a frown, and Harry froze, his eyes catching a lumpy form at the end of the bar. A body. He shivered in disgust, shocked about what he saw.

The body of the ex-Death Eater was lying near a barstool, face up, a blank stare on the man’s face. Harry couldn’t tell for sure if the dead man was Selwyn, but it did look like him. Seemed the Killing Curse had been used on the supine man, if the way he laid there with his eyes staring unfocused up towards the ceiling. He frowned in thought, shaking his head as he moved on, not wanting to stare at the body any longer.

Harry kept moving, walking past the dance floor until he stopped before a panel hidden in the wall in a little alcove deep in the back of the club. He looked around him before touching a knot in the wood, revealing a keypad. He had wondered if his code still worked, as he entered his access code, waiting for the light to turn from red to green.

After a moment, he frowned and pulled his wand out. “Seems the code’s been changed.” Harry waved his wand over the section of wall, muttering the Unlocking Charm. He blinked as he felt a cool rush of air on his face as the wall pulled up to reveal an inner room, dimly glowing from guttering candles. He furrowed his brow as he noted a strange smell hanging in the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

Harry moved inside, looking around, noticing the décor as he walked further into the room. It seemed as if the owners had done some remodelling since he’d last been in there. He looked around the room, noticing a few kneelers and whipping posts scattered throughout the room along with other sexual apparatuses. He walked further in, freezing in his tracks at what he saw. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing, but as soon as he did, he shouted, “Malfoy! Over here, there’re more bodies!”

Draco and Jameson heard Potter’s frantic shouts from just inside the club’s main room—visually inspecting the body—and ran to the back. They stopped just outside the alcove, Draco stepping inside to find Potter leaning back against the wall, eyes darting everywhere as he stared in horrified silence at the carnage in front of them. He stopped next to Potter, eyes going wide in revulsion as he took in the sight of the room. “What kind of barbaric madman would do something like this?”

Jameson leaned out of the door, shouting, “Officers, in here!” He turned back to the two men, stopping beside them. “What the hell happened in here?”

“It looks like a torture room,” Draco replied, eyeing the scene with fright, stepping aside as a few officers ran in to examine the room, making sure no hostile individuals were still inside.

"How’d you know this was here, and how’d you get inside? The password's been changed," Jameson demanded, standing behind Harry.

Harry turned to stare at the officer, frowning. “How did you know that?”

Jameson shrugged. "Some of my fellows work this area frequently. Crime went up. Some CIs attend this club," he replied, moving to his team to get the all clear.

Harry nodded at Jameson’s explanation and took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm himself. He looked to the side, away from the officers taking photos and documenting evidence of the disgusting crime scene. It was obvious everyone was dead. Instead he decided to look around at the sexual devices, crinkling his brows in thought, and wondering why these particular ones seemed familiar to him, though he couldn’t decipher it at the moment.

“Malfoy,” he whispered to the blond, moving closer to him so no one else could hear them. “I used to come into this room quite a few years ago.”

“What is it?” Draco whispered back.

Harry gestured vaguely around the room, encompassing everything with a sweep of his hand. “When I was here, these … devices weren’t. It was mainly a place people would go to receive spankings or just to have anonymous sex—with men or women. But whoever was in here, used these items for something other than what they were meant for. These … are for pleasure, fulfilling fantasies: not torturing and killing.”

Draco glanced around, making sure no one could overhear their conversation. “We should do some spells, find out who brought these here,” he whispered to Harry, eyeing the crowd of officers for Jameson. “Taylor,” he called out, getting the man’s attention, a mere few feet away from them.

“Yes?” Jameson asked, walking over to them, an expectant look on his face.

“We’re going to need to take these devices back with us,” Draco began, keeping his voice low. “We’re going to shrink them. How long will it be before your team can remove the bodies?”

Jameson paused for a moment, thinking. “Four, maybe five hours. I’ll let them know you’re taking these items.” He replied, moving off to relay the message.

Draco watched Jameson leave before turning to Potter. There was a curious thoughtful expression on his face. With some exasperation, Draco sighed and groaned, “ _Now_ what is it, Potter?”

Harry kept his attention on the sexual apparatuses, ignoring Malfoy as he replied, “These look familiar for some reason. I just … I can’t remember where I’ve seen them before.”

Draco looked at him oddly. “Potter, you work in a sex shop. Surely you know what these are,” he dryly reminded.

“That’s not what I mean,” Harry snapped, growing annoyed. “I meant these particular ones look familiar. I _do_ know what they are, Malfoy.”

“Hmph. Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” Draco said, looking at the items also.

Harry sighed wearily. “Yeah.”

***

It was a few hours later before Jameson and his team finished documenting the scene and removing the bodies. Harry had been uncomfortable the entire time they waited as Jameson kept hovering around them, pelting questions at the both of them like he was gathering information for a book or something. Not only that, but the man kept giving them these searching looks, and Harry had no idea why.

Draco had been gathering information from some of the officers who’d been first at the scene, preparing his report for Kingsley. Harry had wandered around outside, surveying the area, trying to piece together what could have happened at the club. He hadn’t come any closer to an answer than when they’d first arrived.

“Okay,” Jameson began, addressing Draco. “I’ve told my team to let you two have the room. Only the liaisons know you’re both wizards, the others have been ordered not to disturb you.”

“Thanks,” Draco replied, smiling in gratitude before turning toward Harry. “Ready, Potter?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered distractedly, mind still lost in his confusing thoughts.

Both men pulled their wands from their respective places within their clothes, shrinking each item they found. Bondage chairs, racks, stocks, tables, and various other assorted items were shrunk down and placed into a packing box one of the officers had procured for them. A little while later, with the items secured, Draco went to find Jameson, leaving Harry behind.

“Taylor,” Draco started conversationally, standing close to the man. “We’re heading back to the Ministry. Let us know what you find.”

Jameson nodded. “Of course. I’ll send Radston; he’s the Auror assigned to us right now.”

“Sounds good,” Draco replied with a weary smile. He turned to head out of the building when his name was called, and turned back around. “Hmm?”

“It was nice seeing you again, Draco, despite the circumstances,” Jameson said warmly, smiling sadly at the blond.

Draco sighed tiredly, pausing a moment as he looked at Jameson. “Same here, Taylor,” he replied sincerely before he turned and walked out of the club, spotting Potter waiting nearby for his return. “Let’s go, Potter.”

They made their way quickly down the dirt path, back to the spot they had Apparated to when they’d first arrived. Harry noticed Malfoy’s pensive look and couldn’t help himself. “Where do you know him from?” he questioned, gauging Malfoy’s reaction.

Draco paused at the question, looking at Potter askance for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he should tell him or not, but decided to do so when he realised the man more than likely wouldn’t care. After a brief pause, he shrugged his shoulders and looked Potter in the eyes. “We used to be lovers long ago.” He answered, disappearing before he could see Potter’s reaction to this bit of news.

Harry blinked at the spot Malfoy had Apparated from, shaking his head in annoyance. “I hate it when he does that,” he murmured to himself.

Harry wasn’t sure why he felt odd around Officer Jameson. He couldn’t quite get over the fact that the man looked awfully familiar to him, but he had no idea from where. Harry sighed once more, rolling his eyes at himself. The git, was more than likely already at the Ministry, having a right old laugh about everything.

And that was another thing: since when did Malfoy shag Muggles? In all the time they’d known each other at school, Malfoy had always hated them. It wasn’t like him to do something like that, as far as Harry knew. But why’d they break up? What happened between them and when did it happen? Harry shook his head; they had more important things to do at the moment.

He’d worry about Jameson later.

***


	2. Chapter 2

They began their investigation early the next day. As soon as Harry and Draco went into the Ministry, they headed to the lifts. They rode in companionable silence, standing as far away from each other as the cramped space in the lift would allow. The two men made their way down the hall, turning left, when they would normally have turned right to step into the Aurors’ Offices. They walked up to the door, Draco removing the first set of spells surrounding the room, before entering inside. The box sat innocently on a table in the middle of the room, but they knew that wasn’t the case.

Draco turned, glancing at Potter, an enquiring look on his pointed face. “Are you ready, Potter?”

Harry sighed quietly and shrugged, looking at the box with trepidation. “As I’ll ever be, I imagine.”

“Here we go.” Draco swished his wand towards the box, levitating each item from within before setting it down on the floor, unshrinking them as he repeated the process until every item they’d taken from Club Infinity was back to its original size.

Harry was in the middle of casting a DNA spell on a resized suspension sling when he felt Malfoy stop next to him.

“So, what’s that for?” Draco asked, curious.

Harry turned towards Malfoy, arching an eyebrow. “Why don’t I just show you?”

“You’re a sick man, Potter,” Draco replied, stepping back. “I’m not letting that thing go anywhere near my arse!”

“Prude.”

“What did you just call me?”

“I called you a prude,” Harry replied with a smirk. “These items make life more interesting. Maybe you’d know that if you got out more often and lived a little…”

“I’m sorry,” Draco began, sarcastically, “but unlike you, _I_ don’t need to be tied up and spanked to have a good time.”

“Don’t knock it. You don’t know what you’re missing out on until you’ve actually tried it.”

“Fine, fine,” Draco placated. “You’re right and I’m wrong. Can we get back to work now?”

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation as he stepped forward. He randomly picked an item, which happened to be a rack, and muttered the spell. All of a sudden, there was a big flash of yellow light, which caused Harry and Draco to shield their eyes. When the glow before their lids dimmed considerably, they opened their eyes, blinking, as they looked around to see if anything had happened.

A label had appeared, the shimmering words being written down before their eager eyes. It took only a few moments before the words stopped and Harry inched closer, anxious to finally find out the information they’d been searching for.

Draco watched impatiently as Potter read, eyes scanning the glittering words, lips moving soundlessly as he read. “Well? What does it say?” he asked, frowning at the drawn out silence from the dark-haired man.

Harry back away from the rack, eyes going wide, and mouth hanging open in horror. His breathing picked up, making him pant heavily as the room suddenly began to emanate a low buzzing noise.

Draco stared at Potter in confusion as he bumped into a bondage table placed behind them. Draco didn’t know what to make of Potter’s silence. _What in Merlin’s name was on that label?_ “Potter?”

 _No … this isn’t possible!_ Harry mentally seethed, trembling in fury at what he’d read. He was unaware of his hands balling into fists, his control over his magic beginning to slip away. Harry didn’t even notice when the room began crackling--electrifying energy making his messy hair even more so.

"All right there, Potter?" Draco asked, concerned. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and he wasn't sure why--what was so upsetting that Potter would--

He darted to the side just in time to avoid the whipping post that crashed into the wall where his head would have been. "Potter!" Draco called out louder this time, eyes wide and breath leaving him in sharp pants. He was thoroughly alarmed as various objects around them began rattling, vibrating from the impressive display of magical outburst: furious magic. It couldn't have been him, so that only left Potter. Draco narrowed his eyes, staring at the office ruins swirling around a livid Potter. It was a terrible sight, but he dared not drag his gaze away.

Only when he ducked and covered his head as something heavy whizzed past his ear did he shout out, "Fuck!"

“I--I can’t believe this! These … maniacs, they _tortured_ those people with items from my own shop! _My_ shop!” Harry shouted, fury unlike any he’d ever felt before, rolling off of him, causing the rack to explode in a shower of wood and metal.

Draco ducked once more out of the way of the explosion, eyes going wide in panic, unable to do much else at the moment than stare in shock at Potter. Without considering the consequences, he stepped in front of Potter, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him until he looked him in the eyes. “Potter, calm down!” he demanded urgently. “You’ll collapse the entire building if you keep this up!”

Harry stared unblinkingly at Malfoy, his anger slowly ebbing away as the crackling petering down to an unfelt buzz. He took in a ragged breath. “Malfoy?” he asked, confused, as he felt the surge of power leave him slowly. “What happened?”

Slowly blinking his eyes, Harry looked around. He hadn’t realised his power had got away from his control until he saw the mess he’d unintentionally made.

“Potter?” Draco asked, cautiously removing his hands from the other man’s shoulders. “You still with me?”

“How could this happen?” Harry questioned to no one in particular, standing still as his expression went blank, no longer seeing anything. The items he sold were supposed to be for fun--a way to express one’s darker sexual urges without hurting another person. In fact, that was the whole point of a safe word—to let the submissive partner stop the play if he or she wasn’t comfortable in their role any longer.

He turned accusing eyes to Malfoy, knowing it wasn’t his fault, but needing to place the blame somewhere. “These items weren’t meant for this!” He shoved the blond, sending him sprawling onto the floor, his anger making him lash out at the nearest person. He heard Malfoy grunt as he landed heavily onto his arse. Harry stepped back, staring at the opposite wall, unseeing. “This is all my fault,” Harry whispered sadly, unshed tears making his eyes shine with emotion.

Draco scrambled to his feet, grabbing Potter’s shoulders. “This isn’t your fault,” he replied, once more shaking Potter to get him to acknowledge his presence. “Do you hear me?” Draco asked, staring intently into the dark-haired man’s eyes. “This is _not_ your fault!”

“But—”

“Potter,” Draco sighed in exasperation. “How could this be your fault? Were you the one who tortured those Muggles to death?”

“…No.”

“Then how is this your fault?” Draco stepped away from him, gesturing around the room with his hands. “You sold these items on good faith that they wouldn’t be used for malicious intent. You’re not responsible for _anything_ after they leave your possession.”

Harry sighed forlornly, his fury dying down a little as he focused on what Malfoy had said. He was still upset and angry that someone could do anything of that magnitude. He knew on some level he wasn’t accountable for what had happened, but he couldn’t help feeling as if he were. “I’m sorry for shoving you,” he apologised despondently.

“You were angry, and rightly so, don’t worry about it,” Draco replied with a shrug. “Does the label say who bought the items?” he asked carefully, hoping his question wouldn’t set Potter off again since they needed to know.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “No, it only has where it came from originally.” He thought it over for a moment. “It could be that this… _person_ placed an Anti-Detection Charm on these items.”

“That could be the case, since the Detection Charm hadn’t worked very well if it only told us the where and not the who,” Draco replied, staring blankly across the room as he thought.

“Maybe it wasn’t us,” Harry commented thoughtfully, not looking at Malfoy. “Maybe someone’s deliberately making it difficult for us to find out who had acquired these.”

Draco hummed quietly, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to piece together this bit of information. “Potter,” he began, “when you sell your items, do you keep any type of documentation about them?”

Harry frowned at the question, thinking. “As a matter of fact, I do. Should we head there to have a look?”

“Nope. Thought we’d go home and have a wank,” Draco replied sardonically. “Yes, Potter. We should have a look.”

They Disapparated out of the room, leaving the items behind as they Apparated into an alley a few feet from Harry’s shop. Harry knew not a lot of Muggles ventured here so they’d be safe from curious eyes, wondering where the two of them had come from. They walked quickly to the front of the shop; it was still early in the day, so Harry didn’t have to worry about people wanting to browse. As soon as they made it to the front door, they swiftly entered, making their way to the back.

“The books I use to keep track of sales are stored in these boxes,” Harry said, looking at Malfoy as he gestured to the rows of stacked boxes. “The spell gave me a time-frame of sorts, so that should help narrow our search.”

“All right, let’s get started, then.” Draco replied, eyeing the boxes wearily.

They spent the next hour going through boxes that Harry knew to have come from around the time they were searching for. Harry had a system, but he knew they would wind up spending all day inside the shop if he tried explaining it to Malfoy.

“Aha!” Harry exclaimed in triumph, holding the sales book up for Malfoy. “Found it.”

Draco dropped the book he’d had in his hands with a sigh. “Thank, Merlin. People would think that I was a novice cutter with all the paper cuts I’ve got on my fingers,” he mumbled, moving closer to Potter to see it.

Harry thumbed through his sales book, reviewing each entry, trying to find the one for the purchase of the items. After a few moments of flipping pages, he sighed in frustration. “There’s no name here I recognise,” he said, putting the book down and taking his glasses off his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Draco squatted down to pick the book up, leafing through a few pages. He thought another set of eyes might help find what they were looking for, because he hadn’t found anything odd in the ledgers he’d been looking through. “Potter,” he said suddenly, eyebrows furrowing. “Did you notice this odd name?”

“What name?” Harry asked, curious, leaning forward to look at the book.

“This one: Elurot Det Alsmai.”

Harry wrinkled his brows. “I didn’t even notice it,” he replied, turning pages. “This particular person bought several items that seem to match the ones back at the Ministry at different times, but I do sell more than one of any piece.”

“Do you remember what this person looked like?” Draco persisted, looking over at Potter.

Harry shook his head regrettably. “My shop isn’t normally busy, but I don’t remember everyone who purchases my items, unfortunately.”

Draco stood up and stretched the kinks out. “We’re getting nowhere here. Maybe we should head back to the Ministry and tell Kingsley what we’ve found so far.”

 _Here we go again. I feel like I’m living at Kingsley’s office._ “Yeah,” Harry sighed tiredly. “I think you’re right.”

Harry stood up from his seat on the hard ground, stretching his legs before following Malfoy back into the main part of his shop. He wrote a quick note for Bethany, letting her know he’d clean up his mess at a later date, hoping she wouldn’t be too upset. He knew she’d more than likely get her hair off at the mess, being the tidy freak she was. Following this, Harry made sure his shop was locked before he nodded to Malfoy and the two of them Apparated away.

***

After telling Kingsley what they’d discovered from reading the ledgers, he had nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. They’d spent the next few hours going over the details of their findings, telling Kingsley they’d run into a proverbial brick wall.

Kingsley frowned at this latest piece of news, but had seemed to accept their report. Before Harry and Malfoy could get up to leave his office, Kingsley told them about the recent reports he’d received from Auror Intelligence, informing the two of them about the next possible target: the Malfoys.

Draco had to use all his self-restraint then to keep from running out to find this budding Dark Lord alone. He really didn’t want to put his parents through the emotional turmoil of possible death once again at the hands of a deranged madman, but there was no other way to keep them safe, unless they were put into protective custody. He _knew_ his parents wouldn’t go through with that no matter how much their lives were in danger.

Harry was wary of the reception he’d receive from Malfoy’s parents since they had a bad history together. Not to mention, setting foot inside of their home that he’d been held hostage in.

Draco hadn’t been home in over six months, and as much as he worshipped his parents, he still needed a moment to mentally prepare himself to deal with them. Every time he returned for a visit, his father would interrogate him about his chosen career. He wasn’t against it, per se, but Draco knew it hadn’t been what his parents had wanted for him. He sighed softly to himself as he turned, raising an eyebrow as he saw Potter giving him an odd look. He shook it off and Apparated to his home, knowing the ex-Gryffindor would follow.

They reappeared just outside the main gates of Malfoy Manor. It looked the same as it had over ten years ago when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been brought here to see Voldemort. Looking past the wrought-iron gates, Harry spotted the same albino peacock prancing around the yew hedges as he’d seen last time. He turned to look at Malfoy, waiting for him to open the gates to let them inside.

Draco pulled his wand out, waving it at the gates while he mumbled a spell to open them. They stood back as the gates slowly opened, making an ominous creaking noise. Draco turned to stare at Potter as the grating sound made them both wince. “Doesn’t look like my parents venture outside much,” he stated, shaking his head.

“Or they just need a really good oiling,” Harry responded, grinning.

Once the gates fully opened, Draco led the way up the stone path, past the peacock, and up to the front door. Draco rummaged through the pockets of his trousers, patting himself down as he searched for the key. Turning, he noticed Potter’s bewildered look. “My parents use wards around the perimeter of the property, so they don’t worry much about the front door, opting to just lock it,” he explained. “Here we go,” he announced, finding the key at last.

As soon as the door was open, Malfoy gestured for him to go in first. Harry hesitated a moment before stepping inside. He looked around the huge foyer in awe at the magnitude and sheer size of the entrance. An elegant wooden table was set against the shiny white wall: a dozen red roses were nestled inside a light blue vase, which rested atop the shiny oak surface as the centrepiece.

There were portraits lining the walls, which Harry presumed were Malfoy’s ancestors. Harry stared in curiosity at the portraits as they glowered down at him, cursing loudly in their direction. He scowled back at them, opening his mouth to retort when he heard Malfoy close the door and relock it, before shouting in irritation up at the portraits, “Will you lot shut up! You’re giving me a headache!”

Harry smiled lightly in gratitude at Malfoy, highly impressed when the portraits stopped their shouting, instead, mumbling and huffing down at them. Harry then followed sedately after Malfoy as they moved further inside, the dark-haired man noticing the white stone flooring, accented with what looked to Harry to be an Asian-made carpet. _You can just feel the snobbery oozing out of the walls,_ Harry thought. They came to a stop at the bottom of a broad, stone staircase, at which Harry tilted his head back to see how far up it went. He was startled out of his perusal by Malfoy’s sudden shout up the stairs.

“ _Mother?_ I’m home!” Draco called, hand gripping the banister. He sniggered gleefully when he saw Potter’s shocked expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” Harry said offhandedly, shrugging his shoulders. He turned suddenly at the sound of footsteps at the top of the staircase, glancing up to see Narcissa Malfoy looking as regally poised as she ever did. She stared down at them as she moved, making Harry feel self-conscious as she scrutinised him.

Harry wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. Even though it had been a long time since he had dealt with Malfoy’s parents, he knew it’d take more than his Gryffindor courage to keep himself from hiding behind Malfoy for protection. Of course, he stood his ground as she came upon them; he wasn’t a coward … even if he felt like one at the moment.

“Draco,” Narcissa elegantly greeted, lifting the hem of her red velvet dress before she descended the staircase. “It’s good to see you again.” She reached the bottom of the steps, pausing a moment before giving her son a brief hug. “How are you? I trust work is treating you well?”

“I’m fine,” Draco started, unconsciously shifting to stand in front of Potter. “As well as can be expected.”

Harry peered over Draco’s shoulder at Narcissa, watching as her expression went blank at noticing him behind her son. “I see you brought Mr Potter with you.” He heard her cool, clear voice say.

“Yes, Mother.” Draco replied, and moved to the side to reveal the man behind him.

 _I didn’t really have a choice in the matter,_ Harry thought sarcastically as he watched the exchange between mother and son, deciding to keep quiet.

“Why?” she questioned, regarding Harry with coolly suspicious eyes.

“Because the Ministry received reports from Auror Intelligence that you and Father were in danger,” Draco informed, sharing a look with Potter, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there at the moment.

“Danger,” Narcissa began skeptically, arching an eyebrow. “What type of danger?”

“We believe some madman, who’s trying to become the next Dark Lord, has his sights set on murdering all of the ex-Death Eaters,” Harry jumped in, hoping to save Draco from having to share the unfortunate news himself.

“Really?” Narcissa replied doubtfully, staring at Harry before turning to her son. “Draco, why would someone we don’t know, want us dead? You know your father and I have kept to ourselves these last few years.”

“I know, Mother,” Draco stated tiredly, nodding. “But I don’t think this person cares.”

“Have you mentioned any of this to your father?”

Draco shook his head, sighing. “Not yet. I thought you two might be targets, but I didn’t know for sure until it was confirmed by Kingsley.”

“I see,” Narcissa replied calmly, a frown marring her lovely face. “Your father’s upstairs in his study. You will have to tell him about this,” she said solemnly, turning to go up the steps.

“Um … I think I’ll wait down here,” Harry said hastily, stepping back from mother and son. “I don’t think I’d be welcomed.”

Narcissa opened her mouth, then closed it, a thoughtful look crossing her features as if she thought better of what she’d been about to say. Instead, she responded with, “You have nothing to fear from my husband, Mr Potter.”

Harry hesitated, unsure whether or not he could trust Draco’s mother. He turned to see the ex-Slytherin shrug lightly, most likely unsure himself. This didn’t make Harry feel any better about the situation. After a moment passed, with both Malfoys waiting for his answer, Harry sighed in resignation. “All right, I’ll come with you,” he relented, moving forward to follow Narcissa.

As the three of them made their way upstairs, Harry mentally prepared himself for the encounter with Lucius Malfoy. With everything that had happened in the past, he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcomed to some degree, or if he’d have to duck and run as spells were hurled at him. Harry shook his head, sighing to himself as he vaguely took in the high ceiling, yet more portraits of Malfoy ancestors and a long rug running down the length of the hallway. They soon came to an ornate wooden door with serpents of all breeds carved into the wood. Narcissa knocked once before turning the snakehead doorknob and letting them inside.

Harry stood behind Draco, gazing over his shoulder at the massive study. Bookcases lined every wall, making it look as if they _were_ the walls. To their left sat an ornate marble fireplace, a roaring fire crackling merrily behind a black, cast-iron grate.

Harry moved further in with the others, pausing as he caught sight of Lucius, sitting regally in an overstuffed chair, feet propped up on a puffy ottoman, and holding what looked to be the _Daily Prophet_.

“Draco,” Lucius greeted, not bothering to lower the paper. “It’s good to see you, Son.”

“Likewise, Father,” Draco replied warmly, a slight smile emerging as he moved closer to him.

Lucius turned a page, sighing a little as he asked, “Still in that Auror business, Draco?”

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance, letting out a quiet breath of exasperation. “Yes, Father.”

Lucius scoffed at Draco, breathing out noisily through his nose. “I suppose it’s good for _some_ thing, then.”

“It is,” Draco replied, trying to keep himself from fidgeting. He gave his father a weary look—they’d had this discussion more or less before.

“And a liaison or solicitor would not have made you just as content?”

Draco crossed his arms, sighing. “No, Father.”

“Hmph.” Harry watched as Lucius finally lowered the paper, gazing at his son. He could see pride shining brightly in his grey eyes, as he looked Draco up and down. Harry jumped, startled, as he was suddenly addressed. “Mr Potter,” Lucius acknowledged, face blanking into a stony mask as he looked from Harry to Draco, “What brings you here?” he asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

Harry glanced at Draco a moment before answering. “I’ve been recruited by the Ministry to help your son with his investigation.”

“And what investigation would that be?”

“Father, there’s someone after You-Know-Who’s old followers, which means you and Mother by proxy are in danger of being next,” Draco replied, a worried look settling over his face.

“Nonsense,” Lucius huffed, folding the _Daily Prophet_ and placing it on a nearby table. “We rarely leave the mansion anymore, unless your mother is outside working in her garden. We have house-elves to procure anything we need, Son. So, why in Merlin’s name would anyone come looking for us? We keep to ourselves.”

“Mr Malfoy,” Harry began, moving away from his companion. “We should get you into protective custody. This man and his followers are dangerous.”

“Potter, the Malfoy family has survived countless Dark Lords and looming threats for over fifteen generations, and we will survive this one too,” Lucius replied. Harry watched as he stood up from his chair and walked to the window where he could see a few alcoholic drinks sitting in a row along the windowsill.

“While I’m sure that’s true,” Harry said, sighing out loud—the man was just as infuriating as his son. “It would be in you and your wife’s best interest.”

Draco looked pleadingly at his mother. “Can’t you convince him?” he whispered.

“It’s your father’s decision, dear,” she replied, turning away to watch the exchange between her husband and Potter. Draco rolled his eyes, and threw his hands into the air.

“Potter, we never thanked you for ensuring our son survived,” Lucius said, taking a sip from his glass. Harry blinked in shock. “So, thank you, and you may go. We are not leaving our home for anyone.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond to this, but was interrupted when a loud screeching noise rang throughout the mansion. His hands flew to cover his ears, cursing at the sudden pain. “What in Merlin’s name is that?”

Draco was so keyed up, he ripped a huge hole in his robes as he went for his wand. “Someone’s breached the wards! They’re here!”

Narcissa walked quickly over to her husband, standing by him as a blast rocked through the mansion and portraits fell from the wall. “What are they doing out there?”

“I-it sounds like they’re using explosives,” Harry replied with trepidation. He turned quickly to Draco as another detonation shook the foundation. “Malfoy, how secure is the manor?”

“Without the wards and spells? Not very,” Draco breathlessly replied, ducking as plaster fell from the ceiling. “But it’d take an army to break through.”

Harry ran to the window, peering around the corner so the men outside wouldn’t spot him. “Well,” he said blandly, feeling the blood drain from his face, “there’s an army outside.”

They were hit by another explosion, raining down more plaster and covering everyone in a fine dusting of white. Harry turned to the elder Malfoys. “Come on, we’ve got to get you two to a safer part of the mansion.”

Draco spun towards his parents. “Mother, Father, go down to the cellar while Harry and I keep them at bay.”

“Draco, we are not going to run away and leave our only son to die.” Lucius replied stubbornly, pulling out his wand.

Draco rounded on his father, giving him an irritated look. “Father, I’m not asking you: I’m _telling_ you, go down into the cellar … _now_!”

Evidently, Lucius was not pleased with his son, if the look he threw Draco served any indication. “Do as he says!” Harry yelled as he ran past them, heading down to the main floor as they heard the door make an ominous screech from the strain of spell bombardment.

Draco stared at his parents in impatience while they stood where they were for long moments before finally doing as they were told, moving swiftly out of the study and hopefully heading to the cellar to hide. Draco ran downstairs after Potter, setting as many Protection Spells as he could to try and buy them time before the men outside broke through.

Another flash had them running for cover as the windows shattered, showering glass everywhere. Harry pulled his own wand out, helping to strengthen the wards Draco was hurriedly erecting around the door. They backed up quickly as the door bulged inwards and dropped hard to the floor, hands flying to cover their heads as it exploded, spraying bits of wood and metal.

Harry gasped loudly, clutching his arm to his chest, as a chunk of wood slammed into him. He moved his arm, glad to find it wasn’t broken, but feeling it had probably been badly bruised. He couldn’t think about that at the moment; he had to stay alive to protect the Malfoys. He focused on channelling all his magic and energy through his wand to keep the men from spilling into the foyer.

They jumped to their feet, crouching as they flung spells at the men converging through the doorway, shooting off hexes one by one. “ _Stupefy!_ ” Harry yelled, hitting one man in the chest. Harry watched as he sprawled to the ground, trampled by his fellows.

Draco shot a curse at one man, sprouting boils from his face and hands that made him howl in rage and run into the wall, blinded by oozing puss. Harry and Draco backed up against the far wall as they cast spell after spell in their efforts to hold off the intruders.

“Never thought I’d die alongside you, Potter,” Draco said sardonically, tossing more jinxes at the men as he cast a glance at his companion.

Harry cast more of his own hexes, glimpsing out of the corner of his eye at Malfoy. “My sentiments exactly. It’s been … different,” he replied, gearing for his death. It was inevitable at the rate their enemies were converging inside.

“I’ll say,” Draco replied distractedly, casting another Stunner. He caught movement from the corner of his eye suddenly, and had turned slightly to get a better look, when he gasped in surprise. On their left, men were beginning to fall of their own accord. Draco didn’t know what was going on—were these men fighting each other now…caught up in their frenzy?

He moved closer to Potter, craning his head to look out the doorway, when a familiar, dark-skinned, bald head came into sight. “Kingsley!” Draco shouted, relieved. He felt a new sense of confidence and fervency and moved forward to renew the fight. Harry followed, casting Stunning Spells at the men left inside the manor.

Harry and Draco watched as the beaten men were rounded up and arrested by the Aurors milling about. “Job well done, gentlemen.” They turned suddenly to watch the approach of a grinning Kingsley.

Harry had never been more pleased to see Kingsley than he was at that moment. He swiped his forearm across his face, wiping the sweat and dirt away, smiling in relief at seeing the Head Auror. “How’d you know we’d need you?”

Kingsley stepped over a fallen enemy. “We had an undercover Auror nearby, watching the manor, keeping an eye out.” He turned to one of his Aurors, whispering quickly to him before the Auror ran off. “We weren’t sure if they would strike, but we didn’t want to take a chance.”

Harry was a bit shaken from everything that had happened; yet glad he survived another battle. He stared at Kingsley a moment before asking, “Can I leave now? I’m knackered.”

“I don’t see why not,” Kingsley replied before turning to address Draco. “Escort him home. Secure the area, and make sure there’s nothing that will cause a backlash.”

Draco frowned, opening his mouth to retort when Potter interrupted him.

Harry crossed his arms, eyebrows scrunched in anger as he glowered at Kingsley. “I’m not a child, you know. I _can_ take care of myself.” He snapped with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but after today, I’m not taking any chances. I want Draco to go with you to ensure you’ll be safe,” Kingsley affirmed, standing his ground. “It’s standard procedure.”

“Sir, what about my parents? They’re still down in the cellar,” Draco enquired, fidgeting with his wand.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, his parents?’

“They’ll be fine. I’ll have my team place them in protective custody until we get to the bottom of this case.” Kingsley placed a friendly hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Take Harry home and make sure he’ll be safe.”

“Yes, sir.” Draco sighed, determined to do his job.

Harry curled his hands into fists, anger and fury nearly getting the best of him. He knew it was stupid, but he wasn’t a damned child. He defeated Voldemort when he was seventeen; he was pretty sure he could take care of himself. “Fine,” he hissed, Apparating away from Malfoy Manor and to his flat with a sharp, angry _crack_.

Draco sighed loudly, giving his boss a cross ‘see what I have to put up with?’ look. He was glad the fighting was over, his parents were safely taken into protective custody, and he hoped they wouldn’t put up too much of a fuss. They weren’t going to be thrilled with being taken from their home, that much was certain.

***

Harry reappeared inside his flat first, followed by Malfoy a few minutes later, who ducked as a picture frame fell from the wall: another indication of Harry’s anger. “I’m home now, _Malfoy_ ,” he hissed through gritted teeth at the blond. “You can leave.”

Draco crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Sorry, Potter, but Shacklebolt will have my arse if I don’t do as he ordered.”

Harry’s nostrils flared in anger as he pulled out his wand, storming through his flat and casting Detection Charms around, making sure there was nothing amiss. He was highly annoyed to find Malfoy had removed his own wand to do likewise. “You know, I _can_ take care of myself,” Harry snapped. “I’m not fucking helpless.”

“Spare me, Potter. It’ll take less time if we both do this,” Draco replied, ignoring the icy scowl thrown his way.

Harry growled, turning away from Malfoy as he stormed off into his bedroom, muttering obscenities under his breath. As soon as he finished checking the room, he came back out into the sitting room to find Malfoy, waving his wand about over the mantlepiece of his small fireplace.

Draco sighed and turned to give Potter an annoyed look. “Oh, shut up, will you?” he snapped. “You’re acting like a toddler. Need me to change your nappy, Potter?”

“Fuck you!” Harry snarled, turning to walk away when he felt Malfoy’s hand close around his arm. “Let … go, Malfoy,” he hissed, scowling furiously at him.

“Potter, you’ve got a huge bruise on your arm. Let me heal it,” Draco said calmly, his Auror training kicking in as much as he didn’t want it to.

Harry yanked his arm out of Malfoy’s grasp. “I can bloody well take care of it myself!”

Draco scowled; he had enough of Potter’s temper tantrum. In a fit of anger, Draco captured Potter’s face in his hands, silencing the infuriating man with a hard press of his lips against Harry’s. After a while, Draco pulled back when Potter didn’t return the kiss, and silence fell between them as they stared at each other in shock. Draco couldn’t believe he’d actually kissed Potter, and cast a wary look at the other man, hoping he wouldn’t hex his cock off for daring to kiss him.

Harry stood there, gaping. What on earth was that about? It wasn’t that he hadn’t liked it, but he just didn’t know why Draco had done it. He’d felt his trousers go tight just from that brief press of lips; the blond before him was actually quite—actually, very attractive—and he suddenly wanted more. Harry was still angry at being treated like a child who couldn’t take care of himself, but he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was standing right in front of him.

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise, and he made a shocked noise in the back of his throat as Potter suddenly lunged for him. Harry’s tongue quested past his shock-parted lips, one hand fisted in his robes while the fingers of his other hand yanked at his blond hair, holding his head in place as the man devoured him. Draco moaned into his mouth as he felt the rough tug, and felt his legs wanting to slide out from under him.

Draco felt Harry’s tongue slide against his own, withdrawing to trail wetly against his lips, before dipping back in. Harry moaned hotly into his mouth, eliciting a moan in return as his hold tightened. The ex-Slytherin gave a pained grunt as Harry’s teeth nearly missed clamping onto his tongue, saving it from being severed in half as he took over the kiss. He slid his hands down to Harry's arse and jerked him roughly close, and grinding his erection into the other’s.

Harry groaned loudly as groin met groin, and sighed as he rubbed himself hard against the blond. What were they doing? This wasn’t right. He gasped loudly as he felt Draco’s hands squeezing and kneading his arse. _I take that back—oh, God, keep doing that._

As an idea bubbled to life in his mind, Draco whirled Harry around and began to push him backwards towards the bedroom door. His tongue practically cleaned the ex-Gryffindor’s teeth as his hands desperately sought skin beneath Potter’s shirt, eliciting a drawn out moan from him that made his cock twitch expectantly.

His nose suddenly collided with Harry’s cheek, harder than he would have liked, as they bumped hard into the sofa, stalling their advance to the bedroom. Draco pulled away from the other man as he stumbled out of the way, taking a much-needed breath. _Where’s the damn bedroom?_ Draco thought frantically as they took a moment to round the sofa before he grabbed the front of the black shirt and pulled Harry's lips back to his, continuing their passionate snog as he revelled in the heat of the other against his body.

Draco’s hands—their hands—were everywhere. Tugging at each other’s clothes, skin feverish and glistening with sweat as they advanced to the bedroom. That was, until Draco felt a jolt, sudden pain blossoming in his left knee; the coffee table. Draco heard a crash—they must have upturned something—Potter really shouldn’t pack his furniture so close together. He jerked as he felt his foot slide across the carpet as he stepped on something slippery—a magazine? Their fingers laced together, just like their tongues, hands knocking a lamp aside in their haste; they were _so close_ to the door now.

Draco pushed forward faster, coming up short as they hit the wall instead. If only it were more to the left—who designed this place anyway? And were Potter’s thighs sliding around his waist…? He moaned deeply as Harry’s hands scratched at his back, likely leaving welts. Draco barely kept himself from toppling them over when he felt the man’s mouth sucking wet kisses down his neck as he reached for the doorknob.

He sighed out—both in relief at finally getting the door open and from Harry nibbling at his neck. Draco shuffled forward, staggering under the weight of Harry clinging to him, as he moved toward the bed. He dropped Harry unceremoniously onto the mattress, barely hearing the “ _oof!_ ” he made—he watched him bounce a few times--before removing his clothes at break neck speed. He looked up to see Potter doing the same, trousers and pants hanging off one ankle, shirt hiked up to his neck, glasses thrown towards the bedside table. Draco closed his eyes, fighting the urge to come just from that sight alone. Potter didn’t know how hot he was.

Harry’s eyes went wide as Draco jumped onto the bed, leaning over him to seal their mouths together in another hot and sloppy kiss with saliva running down the sides of Harry’s mouth. It felt like he was trying to suck out Harry’s tonsils. He opened his mouth to Draco’s insistent tongue, moaning as he sucked wetly on it.

Writhing in heat and arousal as Draco laid on top of him. Harry sighed in disappointment as Draco pulled away, leaning over the side of the bed to open the top drawer of his bedside table, anxiously rifling around inside. Harry assumed Draco was looking for the bottle of lotion he kept there. Harry moaned deeply, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth; he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hurry up,” Harry groaned as he ran his hands up Draco’s smooth abs while he searched. Harry got his hands knocked to the side as the blond moved back on top of him, and ground their erections together. Harry moaned loudly, sucking at Draco’s earlobe while he worked at the cap of the bottle, trying to get it open. Harry was desperate and he wanted Draco now!

Draco pulled his eyes away long enough to get the lid open, squeezing out a handful of the flowery smelling stuff, as he reached down to his cock and smeared it along his length. Scooting down the bed, he grabbed Potter’s left leg—removing the dangling trousers and pants with mild amusement—and pushed it towards his chest, spreading him wide open as he moved his lotion-filled hand down to Harry’s arse.

“Come on, _come on_!” Harry grabbed the backs of his knees, bringing them as close to his chest as he could to splay himself wider for Draco. He tightened his hold on his legs and threw his head back, moaning in pure ecstasy as he felt one of Draco’s lotion-covered fingers pressing insistently at his entrance. He relaxed his muscles, letting the finger inside, relishing in the feel of the slick intruder, impatient to have a cock inside of him: stretching him, feeling the burn of friction.

Draco pulled his finger out, quickly replacing it with two fingers, impatient to feel Potter’s body clenching around his cock instead. Determining the man under him was ready, he pulled his fingers out with a wet popping noise, gripped his cock, and steadied it as he finally pushed in. Oh, sweet Merlin, Harry was _so tight_.

Harry gasped from the intrusion, hands going above his head—shirt hiking up further--as he tightly gripped the headboard, knuckles going white. He felt Draco lean down, placing a quick kiss on his lips before pulling back, hands going to the backs of his thighs as the Auror began thrusting, filling his arse.

“Ah!” Harry cried, holding on as Draco’s punishing grip got tighter the harder and faster he slammed into his body. Harry felt Draco’s sac slapping against his arse, hot and wet sucking noises coming from their rough coupling. The sounds alone were driving Harry insane. “ _Fuck!_ ” He yelled out as Draco shifted, hitting his prostate hard.

Draco picked up speed, thrusting and thrusting, tightening his grip, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He put everything into his hips as he moved, encouraging Harry. “Yes … clench tighter … oh God, like that....”

Harry squeezed down on the cock inside him as hard as he could clenching and unclenching; his breath coming out in hot pants as he let go of the headboard and brought a hand down to fist his leaking cock, twisting the sensitive head. He stroked himself hard and fast, trying to match the pace Draco was setting with his hips, and choking back cries as his prostate was continuously slammed, over and over. Harry was lost, forgetting everything that had happened the last few days and concentrating solely on the cock plowing into him.

Draco didn’t stop his relentless pounding, pushing, and pulling, faster and faster, as he moved. He opened his eyes, looking down as he felt Harry’s hand brushing against his groin to wank himself as he was fucked. It was hot, it was tight—God, just the sight alone of Potter pulling himself made Draco want to come, but not yet. Not yet.

After another wicked thrust against his prostate, Harry stiffened—arsehole clenching spasmodically around Draco’s cock—and cried out as he came in hot stringy spurts, bursting white onto his chest, groaning as a bit hit him under his chin. He tried catching his breath as Draco continued to pound into him. Harry opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them, to see Draco arch his back, neck tilted—his sweaty blond hair sticking to his forehead in clumps—as he felt him come.

Draco stiffened, groaning low in his throat as he emptied himself into Harry’s velvet-tight heat. He relaxed after a moment, leaning down to capture Harry’s moist lips in a fiery kiss and feeling the man’s come sliding between their chests. He moved away from Harry’s lips, pulling out slowly, looking down at his softening cock, moist and glistening, and watching as his seed oozed out of the man’s body, running down the backs of his thighs onto the sheets. Draco collapsed next to the dark-haired man, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Harry lowered his legs slowly, trying to get the feeling back into them as he languidly rolled onto his side to face Draco. He propped his head on his hand, leaning over for one last kiss, and then pulled away to smile at the man. “That was fantastic,” Harry purred, a yawn interrupting him as he stretched. “So, what brought that on? I thought you hated me?”

Draco drowsily opened an eye, looking sleepily at Harry. “You were being a spoiled bitch. Thought the kiss would shut you up. Wasn’t expecting the shag, though,” Draco replied, closing his eye again. “I don’t know. During school I hated your guts. Now, though … I suppose it was mostly out of habit to argue with you.”

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “So, what now?” he asked, sitting up a moment to remove his shirt. He used it to wipe the come from his body before tossing it to the floor and lying back down. He was surprised to feel Draco turn and press himself closer, almost snuggling.

“Honestly, I had no idea me coming over here was going to lead to shagging. I was just following my orders before this happened.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes as he sleepily snuggled back. “I know,” Harry whispered in reply, letting the even breathing of Draco lull him to sleep.

***

Harry awoke to the feeling of a very hot, wet mouth sucking his cock. He blinked sleepily, thinking he was still dreaming at first. That was until he raised his head from his stack of pillows and looked down the length of his body to find a head full of silver-blond hair. He sighed contently, bringing a hand to that moving head and feeling the silky strands of hair between his fingers as Draco moved up and down.

Draco pulled back, pushing back the foreskin to swirl his tongue along the head, licking up precome from the slit already beginning to ooze from Harry’s excitement. He pushed the cock in his hand towards Harry’s chest, lowering his head to lick along the length from root to tip and back down, enjoying the moans and gasps he elicited from Harry.

Harry arched up, and felt Draco hold his hips down so he couldn’t choke him from bucking wildly into his mouth. “God,” Harry moaned, digging his head back into the pillow, running a hand through Draco’s hair, gripping, pulling. “That’s good.”

Draco licked up the length of the cock in his hand--pink tongue dipping in and out of the slit, lapping up the precome leaking out--before lowering his head to take the entire thing into his mouth, scraping his teeth lightly as he came up, then sucking hard as he moved back down. He was enjoying this, sucking cock, feeling the vein underneath slide against his tongue as he bobbed his head. Hearing Harry’s moans drove him wild, so much so that he reached down to his own hot and hard cock to fist it in tandem to what he was doing.

“Draco, I’m going to come,” Harry warned. He pushed at Draco’s head to try to get him to pull away, but he stubbornly refused to move, instead, deep-throating him. Harry’s toes curled and his back arched as he came in hot spurts inside Draco’s mouth, panting for breath as the blond pulled back. Harry moaned, licking his red, moist lips.

Draco sprawled back, legs akimbo as he worked faster at his own needy erection, alternating between squeezing and wanking as he tried to come. He watched as Harry sat up and leaned over, mouth opening wide to catch his release. The sight of Harry wanting to taste his come made Draco gasp to the point of pain as he shot into the waiting mouth, getting a few drops along the man’s chin and cheek.

Draco panted for breath, watching Harry swallow and lick his lips, giving him an evil grin. “Fuck, that was hot. I’ve never come quite like that before,” he said breathlessly, swiping a hand through his loose, sweaty hair.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly as he sat back, leaning over his knees. “The mood hit me. Someone decided to wake me up with a blowjob. I wonder who that could have been?” he said, grinning cheekily at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes, moving to lie on his back with his head towards the footboard. “So, here’s an out of the blue question.”

“Hmm?”

“What made the great Harry Potter decide to not only leave the wizarding world behind, but to open a fetish shop, too?” Draco enquired, moving his arm to cover his eyes, feeling Harry snuggle up against his side, and run a finger along his chest.

“Well,” Harry began, propping his head in his hand, “after the war, I had strangers coming up to me to congratulate me on vanquishing Voldemort. This wasn’t too bad at first, since it was supposed to be a new beginning for wizard-kind. People wanted to thank me for saving their lives, or their family’s lives.” He sighed, thinking of what to say next. “Then the letters began pouring in: parents asking me to marry their daughters—this was especially bad after I broke it off with Ginny. I couldn’t leave the house without someone stopping me to ask for my autograph or want to take a picture.”

“Always thought you’d like that sort of thing—ow!” Draco laughingly quipped, rubbing at the arm smack from Harry.

“Anyway,” Harry continued. “I decided to leave, living amongst Muggles instead since they’d never heard of me. I never wanted to be famous in the first place.”

“And your reason for the shop?”

“Ah, that’s a bit more complicated,” Harry said with a sigh, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure when it started, but I remember taking a year off after the war, but before living amongst Muggles. I was feeling lonely … out of place, and I couldn’t go to Ron or Hermione since they were working out their new relationship. So one day I decided to check out a club—”

“Club Infinity?”

“Yes,” Harry answered. “There were other clubs of course, but I always found myself going back there. The back room, where we found those victims, was used as a theme room of sorts. One week would be spankings; another would be … say, an orgy. The thing is, it opened my eyes, and brought out the inner kink I didn’t know I had. So, needing a job of some sort, but not trusting others at the time, I used some of my money I received from my parents, and opened the shop.”

“So, pretty cut and dry, then?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry conceded.

Draco sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. “You mind if I use your shower? I’m sure I’m beginning to smell a bit ripe.”

“Fine.” Harry shrugged. “Just be careful, the hot water likes to shift to cold suddenly,” Harry replied, sitting up as well. “While you shower, I’m going to head down to Tesco. I’m out of food for the week, and I’m starving.” He looked questioningly at Draco. “Would you like something to eat? I don’t know if you’re still on duty or not.”

“I don’t have to work today or tomorrow. Kingsley sent an owl while you were sleeping, giving me some time off,” Draco explained.

Harry grabbed his glasses off the bedside table and placed them onto his face. “All right,” he began, picking up his clothes from the floor and getting dressed. “It shouldn’t take me more than thirty or forty minutes at the supermarket. Will you be here when I get back?”

“Do you want me to be?” Draco countered, sitting on the edge of the bed as he looked questioningly up at Harry.

Harry smiled lightly. “I wouldn’t mind it. I could probably pick something up for breakfast if you’re interested?”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

Harry laughed lightly. “Oh,” he said suddenly, moving to his wardrobe. He emerged with a set of silver rings. “If for any reason you need to get hold of me,” he began, “Just use this.”

Draco accepted the ring, giving Harry a cheeky grin before placing it on the index finger of his right hand as Harry had. "Two shags and already a proposal? I know I'm good, but—"

“I'm not proposing, you berk,” Harry replied with a laugh. “I got the idea from Muggle mobiles. It’s spelled to let you communicate with one another just like they do via the phones,” Harry explained. “It doesn’t last very long, maybe five minutes worth of conversation before it peters out. But if you need me for anything, just think my name, wait for me to respond, and then you can talk normally.”

“I’m impressed, Potter. I thought Granger was the one with the brains.”

“I have my moments,” Harry replied cheekily, grinning.

Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “So, I see. Now, run along; I’m actually a bit hungry myself.”

“All right, see you in a while.” Harry made his way out of the bedroom, grabbing his coat along the way and left his flat, heading down the street to the supermarket, leaving Draco alone.

***

Harry took his time as he walked to Tesco, enjoying the scenery since the supermarket wasn’t very far from his flat. He looked through shop windows as he passed each one, stopping occasionally for a few moments to gaze at an item or two that caught his fancy. He continued on his way, but suddenly paused when he heard his name called from behind him.

“Potter.”

Harry turned around, blinking in surprise when he saw who it was. “Oh, hello, Officer Jameson,” he greeted. “What are you up to?”

“I was looking for you, actually,” Jameson replied. “I have important information I need to tell you.”

Harry scrunched his eyebrows, looking at Jameson curiously. “Me? Wouldn’t it make more sense to give this information to Draco, or maybe even Kingsley? I assume it’s work related,” he asked suspiciously.

“I understand, but this can’t wait. Maybe you can pass this along to them, you know, kill two birds with one stone,” Jameson said. “Are you free at the moment? This won’t take very long.”

Harry eyed Jameson apprehensively, uncertain. He wasn’t sure why Jameson thought it was better to tell him, especially since he wasn’t an official Auror, just a helper. After a moment, he mentally shrugged and nodded at Jameson. The man _had_ been Draco’s old lover, he had to be somewhat trustworthy, right? “So what is it you need to tell me?”

“Not here,” Jameson replied, looking around. “Too many ears.”

“All right,” Harry conceded, frowning. “Where do you want to go?”

Jameson tilted his head towards an alley nearby. “Down there,” he said, turning towards the shadowed passage.

Harry paused for only a moment, an uneasy feeling overtaking him once more. He shook his head and took a deep breath. They were only chatting, nothing to be concerned about. Harry pulled out his wand as a precaution before moving down the alley, feeling the man behind him as he went. “Okay, what’s this—”

He had turned to face Jameson when he was blind-sided by a punch to his face that sent him sprawling backwards; he grunted in pain as his head hit the asphalt.

“Sorry, but Father will be most pleased when I bring you to him.” Harry overheard as he fought the blackness of unconsciousness before succumbing and passing out.

***

Draco sat on the sofa, glaring at the clock on the mantelpiece. Over an hour had passed since Harry had left for the supermarket. Something just didn’t feel right about this. He had a pretty good idea Harry wouldn’t just go off and leave everything behind because they’d literally slept together twice. Not only that, but there was a picture of what Draco assumed were Harry’s parents next to the clock and because Harry went on and on about his parents while they were at school, he was certain he wouldn’t disappear without at least taking that picture along.

He rubbed his sweaty hands along his trousers, looking down as he remembered the silver ring Harry had given him. Harry was only a little late, but the ominous feeling wouldn’t leave no matter how much he tried telling himself there was probably nothing to worry about. He didn’t know if he should contact Potter or not. He wasn’t checking up on the man; he was just worried. Of course Harry could take care of himself, but no one was invincible. Draco sighed, and looked down at the ring once more. Biting his lower lip in decision, he decided a try wouldn’t hurt. _Potter?_ He thought, feeling a vague sense of displacement surround him.

 _D-Draco?_ Draco felt the connection instantly click into place before he heard, loud and clear, “ _Aah!_ ”

Draco leapt from the sofa, eyes wide and wild. He’d not only heard the anguish in Harry’s voice, but he’d felt it too. “Harry!”

***

Harry woke up with a groan, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his bottom lip. He blinked bleary eyes, feeling his head explode with pain from the lump formed on the back. He tried to lift his hand to rub at the bump only to realise they were tied to the armrests of the chair he sat in. He raised his head to study his surroundings, which looked all too familiar to him. He scrunched his eyebrows in thought, trying to think where he was.

After a few moments, he gasped, eyes going wide as he came to a startling realisation. “What am I doing back at the club?” he muttered to himself as he moved his hands, testing the strength of the bindings. He didn’t like this. The last thing he had remembered was Jameson asking to speak to him, then punching him—ow—wait … Jameson had hit him! What the fuck? Did he know he’d slept with Draco—but why would he care? Didn’t they finish, and how’d he find out?

He struggled for a few minutes, but with no luck. The ties were tightly wrapped around his wrists, almost cutting off the blood flow. Harry took a calming breath, closing his eyes as he willed himself to change into his Animagus form. Long moments passed, but Harry didn’t feel the familiar effects of the transformation. He opened his eyes, looking down at his still human body with trepidation. _Damn; there must be a shield or something blocking me,_ he thought worriedly.

The sudden noise of an opening door had Harry looking up swiftly. He squinted past the crack in his glasses, trying to see who was coming inside; he didn’t know if it would be help, or if it was Jameson again.

“I see you’re awake, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock, his eyes widening as he heard the very familiar—too familiar—voice. “Mr Tisdale? What—”

“Harry, my boy, it’s so good to see you again,” Tisdale greeted, grinning eerily at Harry as he walked further into the room.

“What are you doing here? And why am _I_ here?”

“Oh, Harry, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Tisdale replied, stopping in front of him. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but if Tisdale was here, it probably wasn’t anything good. He didn’t know whether he should fear for his life or his arse at the moment.

“What are you talking about? I’m assuming I was brought here by Jameson, or am I wrong?” Harry enquired, scowling up at the man who’d been a pain in his arse since the day he opened his shop.

Tisdale snorted, sitting down in the chair across from his. “You’re correct. It was a stroke of genius having my own son infiltrate the Muggle law enforcement; taking the place of a man with the same surname, and those filthy Muggles didn’t even notice.”

Harry leaned back as Tisdale’s spittle went flying as he laughed. Harry had known he was a perverted fucker, but he hadn’t known he was insane too. “What are you saying?” he asked in confusion. Surely this man wasn’t—“ _You’re_ the one who murdered all those Muggles? Wait, how’d you purchase the items from my shop when you never bought anything?”

“Oh, yes,” Tisdale replied with glee. “Filthy creatures, they are. You see, Harry, back when You-Know-Who was still alive, I tried joining his ranks. But that idiot wouldn’t accept me, saying I wasn’t a true pure-blood as all of my children turned out to be Squibs.”

Harry watched in shock as Tisdale Summoned a table to him, filled with strange metal instruments. Tisdale’s a wizard? He just couldn’t believe it as he turned to get a better look at the items, he wasn’t sure what they were, but he recognised one of them: a pair of pliers.

“So, what did the Dark Lord do?” Tisdale continued, picking up the pliers from the table. “He killed my family because we had to live as Muggles and most assuredly would have killed Taylor as well if he had not been visiting distant family at the time,” he explained, gesturing to his son, who was standing near the exit.

“But what does any of this have to do with me?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes on the tool in Tisdale’s hand. “I never did anything to you or your family. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Why, dear Harry, you were the one who defeated the Dark Lord! And if I’m to take over: me, a lowly wizard who couldn’t even produce magical children, I have to be sure you’re out of the picture,” Tisdale aloofly replied. “Can’t have you trying to kill me also, now can we? As to how, my son purchased those items of course. Really, Harry, have you not figured out who Elurot Det Alsmai is?”

Harry shook his head in answer. He watched, memories of an earlier time coming back to him, as Tisdale used his wand to write his name. ‘ _Meloutar Tisdale_ ’ floated into the air before one swish of his wand had the letters rearranging themselves to his name: Elurot Det Alsmai.

Harry frowned. Okay, so he rearranged his name, but it’s not a very scary name. At least Voldemort was more creative with his anagram, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. He stared at the name in the air, trying to see if he could find out any significant meaning to the name, when it hit him.

 _I am slated to rule._

Harry furrowed his brows. “You’re slated to rule, how original,” he said sardonically.

Harry watched, helpless, as the man scowled and placed the pliers around his left little finger before he bent it at an unnatural angle, snapping the bone. “Argh!” Harry screamed, tensing in his chair, twisting uselessly through the ropes around his wrists as sweat broke out on his forehead and his body trembled in pain. “Wh-what … do you … think this will accomplish?” he panted heavily.

“Probably nothing, but I want revenge, and since you’re here and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named isn’t, I’m afraid it falls on you,” Tisdale replied nonchalantly with a shrug, taking the next finger between the pliers and breaking that one also.

“Agh … fuck!” Harry cried out, his face flushing in pain. He didn’t know how much more he could take; he was on the verge of passing out from the pain already. He blinked the sweat from his eyes, trying to keep himself from losing consciousness when he heard a faint, _Potter?_

 _D-Draco?_ Harry thought, scrunching his eyebrows together, wondering if he’d imagined that or not, before Tisdale broke his middle finger. “Aah!” He startled when he heard, loud and clear, Draco shout his name. The rings. He’d forgotten all about the rings. He had to tell Draco where he was within the next five minutes or … well, he didn’t want to know how far Tisdale would go.

Harry panted roughly, feeling the blackness beyond pain slowly trying to pull him under; he knew he had to keep Tisdale distracted, but he had to speak out loud. He had to tell Draco where he was or he would die in here like all the others. “Club … Infinity … Draco …”

 _I’m coming, Harry, hang in there!_ He heard Draco say in his mind.

“What?” Tisdale asked, eyeing Harry strangely. “Who are you talking to?” Harry saw him turn towards his son. “Taylor, go outside; make sure no one disturbs us.”

“Yes, Father,” Jameson obeyed, walking out of the room and presumably into the main area of the club.

Disorientated, Harry watched Tisdale turn back towards him. “We mustn’t have anyone interrupt us, Harry; I’m not finished with you yet. I have to show the wizarding world that even _I_ can be great.”

“God. Why don't you stop … your whining and get on with it? I've … heard all … this shit before,” Harry growled out, panting heavily, as he scowled furiously at Tisdale.

Tisdale snorted, placing the pliers around his index finger. “But I’ve only just begun, my dear,” he sweetly replied, breaking Harry’s finger.

“Agh! You fucking … bastard!” Harry screamed, the pain in his left hand shooting white hot sparks up his arm; he almost wet himself. “Do you … know why … people like you … kill others, Tisdale? Do you?” Harry panted out, feeling nauseous and praying Draco arrived soon.

Tisdale leaned forward to smirk in his face. “Why don’t you tell me, Harry?”

“Because,” he began, trying to calm his breathing, “they choose to. There’s no one else to blame.” Harry took that moment to spit in the man’s face and gasped sharply as Tisdale’s fist suddenly connected with his face, sending his glasses flying off to clatter onto the floor.

“Harry, Harry,” Tisdale said, shaking his head as he wiped the spittle from his face. “You’re right. I choose to kill. And you, my dear Harry, are going to suffer the same fate.”

***

Draco Apparated to Club Infinity as quickly as he could without Splinching himself in the process. He couldn’t see or sense the pain no doubt emanating from Harry, but he heard it in his ‘voice,’ so to speak. Draco reappeared a few feet away from the building, not giving a damn if any Muggles saw his sudden appearance or not. He looked around the building, but didn’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. He moved towards the entrance to the club when he heard someone calling for him.

“Draco?”

Draco whipped around towards the source of the voice, face scrunching in confusion upon seeing his ex-lover emerge from the side of the building. “Taylor? Did the Muggles send you here?”

“Not quite,” Jameson replied, leaning against the closed door of the club. “Tell me: why are you here?”

“Harry’s in trouble,” Draco replied distractedly as he looked around, wondering what Jameson was doing at the club; did he know that Harry was in danger as well? “Taylor, what’s going on?”

“So it’s _Harry_ now, is it? What happened to _Potter_?” Draco kept quiet, feeling very apprehensive as Taylor continued. “You remember how I persisted after you?” Jameson said, his tone conversational. Draco nodded, frowning. What did this have to do with anything?

Jameson snorted, looking off to the side for a moment. “I was told to find someone who’d once been close to Harry Potter; preferably, someone who worked at the Ministry as an Auror. I thought it would be difficult, seeing as I enjoyed the company of men more than women. But I steeled my resolve, knowing it’d be a sacrifice for my father’s overall goals. Imagine my surprise when I find that not only was Potter your old school rival, but you were just as big a pouf as I was.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Taylor started, sighing in boredom. “That our affair was only meant to gather information. I only remained with you until I had all the information I needed for the plan.”

“What plan?” Draco couldn’t help but ask, crossing his arms. He was hurt and angry, knowing that Taylor had used him for personal gain. What that gain was, he didn’t know. This whole situation didn’t feel right. He was here to save Harry from whatever vile thing he was undergoing, he didn’t have time to sit here and play Twenty-bloody-Questions.

“Did you really think hiding those official Auror files under the illusion of old maths documents would deter me?” Jameson asked instead. Draco’s mouth hung open at this. He didn’t know how Taylor could have seen those files. Only wizards or Squibs would have been able to, and he knew Taylor wasn’t a wizard; he didn’t give off the same aura as other magical folk did.

“Hang on, you’re a Squib? You’re a fucking _Squib_?” Draco angrily accused, nostrils flaring in fury at being taken for a fool.

“Yup,” Taylor replied, smirking. “Now, if you don’t mind,” he began, as his hand disappeared into his pocket, “it’s time to do some cleaning up.”

Draco noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye, unconsciously reaching for his wand, ready and waiting to pounce when he caught sight of the item. Draco backed away from Taylor; he may have been a born and bred pure-blood wizard, but even _he_ knew about Muggle weapons. “A gun? How fucking _Muggle_ of you. I knew you were no good for me the moment I met you, but no, I had to let my fucking hormones speak for me.”

“You always were easy to manipulate. I don’t know how you became an Auror, as slow on the uptake as you are,” Taylor said, cocking the gun.

Draco backed up further, concentrating as hard as he could, transforming as quickly as possible into his hawk Animagus. He launched himself at Taylor’s face, clawing and pecking at any flesh available from the flailing man. “Agh…ah! Get off me!” Taylor screamed, thrashing his hands about. Draco saw his arm go up trying to knock him back, but to no avail.

The gun went off suddenly, startling Draco as it clipped his wing. He let out a loud squawk, panting at the bullet hole in his shoulder, thankfully, missing anything vital from what he could tell. He lay on the ground, supine, staring up at the afternoon sky while wincing in pain. He heard Taylor cursing loudly, and tilted his head as much as he could to look at the man, as he panted in fear and pain.

“You bastard!” Taylor shouted, wiping at his blood-covered face with the sleeve of his jacket. “You’re going to pay for that!”

Draco pulled out his wand, pointing it at Taylor as the man sprinted at him. “ _Stupefy!_ ” Draco shouted, watching his ex-lover crash to the ground, Stunned. Draco dropped his wand arm back to the ground, taking a breath as he waited for his heart to stop beating so fast. After a moment, he slowly sat up, gasping as his shoulder sent stabbing pains up his neck. A wave of nausea hit him suddenly, pulling a few dry heaves from him as well.

Finished with his bout of sickness, Draco took a deep breath as he hauled himself up onto his feet with some difficulty, blood seeping out of his wound. He couldn’t worry about that right now, Harry needed him. He turned to the stunned man, waving his wand until ropes shot out, binding Taylor tightly before he headed for the club’s entrance. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

***

Harry spluttered as cold water was thrown at him, waking him out of the stupor he’d fallen into at the latest pain filled break. This time, Tisdale had grabbed his hand, twisting it quickly and sharply, breaking his wrist. Harry had screamed out in pain before blacking out, waking only when he’d been doused.

“Now, now, Harry,” Tisdale said, rummaging through the tools on the tabletop. “We can’t have you passing out on us.”

Harry blinked bleary eyes at him, breathing heavily as he watched, dazed as Tisdale grabbed a large item from the table display. It looked like it might be a blowtorch, but Harry wasn’t sure, since his glasses were elsewhere.

He was right in his assumption when Tisdale turned it on and lit the end of the tool, staring at it with an evil grin on his face. Harry renewed his struggling, uncaring of how much pain the movement caused. What the fuck, where’s he going to use that?

Harry fearfully watched, sweat beading on his forehead and nausea bubbling up inside of him as Tisdale came closer and closer to his face with the blowtorch. This was it; he was going to die in the most painful way possible and Draco was nowhere to be seen.

“Get the _fuck_ away from him!”

Harry heard the words, but didn’t turn away from the fire approaching him.

Tisdale turned in his seat, lowering his arm a fraction as he eyed Draco in annoyance. “Who the hell are you?”

Draco stood scowling, left arm covered in blood and hair matted in dirty clumps against his face, his wand aimed at Harry’s sour-faced kidnapper. “I said, let him go!”

“Or you’ll what?” he mocked, grabbing Harry’s hair in a steel fist and bending his head back. “If you haven’t noticed, _I’m_ in charge here, blondie. I think fire beats magic.”

Draco’s arm didn’t waver once as he stepped further into the room. “Don’t make me kill you. Let him go _now_!”

“You don’t have the guts to kill me,” Tisdale sneered, inching the blowtorch closer to Harry’s face. Harry could feel the heat blistering his skin as it got closer to him. He held his tongue, trying to stifle a shout of pain; he felt like his face was melting.

“This is your last warning. Let him go or you’re dead!”

Harry closed his eyes tightly, feeling the fire licking at his face. He knew he was going to die; Tisdale was ignoring Draco. It was too late. He startled violently when he heard Draco’s shout and the blowtorch hitting the ground.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Draco shouted clearly and without hesitancy. A green light shot out of his wand, hitting Tisdale in the chest and sending the man flying on impact. The blowtorch dropped to the ground with a loud clang, blue fire still spewing threateningly from the tip. Draco quickly waved his wand at it, extinguishing the flame before staggering over to Harry and kneeling down in front of him. “Potter … Harry? Are you okay?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open a few times, before he rasped out, “Dray-co?”

“Yes, Harry, it’s me,” Draco laughed in relief, standing up and using his wand to remove the bindings around Harry’s wrists. Harry gasped in pain as his broken hand came loose. “Harry, look at me. Can you stand?”

Harry’s head lolled on his neck; he saw Draco past his sweat-sticky fringe, eyeing him carefully and concerned. “I-I think so,” he replied, using his right hand to brace himself, Draco helping him out of the chair. He wobbled slightly as he stood on shaky legs, keeping hold of Draco’s good arm. They stumbled shakily through the room before Harry froze, eyes going wide. “They actually worked.”

“What did?”

“The rings. I wasn’t sure they would.”

Draco snorted, as he and Harry shuffled out of the club’s secret room, making their way slowly but surely towards the exit. Once they were finally outside, Draco sat them down on the concrete footpath in front of the building, moving to check Jameson to be sure he was still securely bound before returning to Harry. “I’m going to have to call the Aurors to come take care of this mess. And have you looked at,” Draco added, looking over Harry’s body. “You look a right mess.”

Harry laughed aloud. “So do you.” Seconds passed in silence before Harry began, “Hmm, I’m thinking this would count as a reason to strengthen a rocky relationship.”

Draco laughed, pulling out his wand once more. “I think you could be right. But let’s hold that thought, eh?” With a wave, he muttered a spell, sending a purple mist into the air, and watched it float off.

Harry followed his gaze. “What was that?”

“It’s an Auror thing. I’m letting the Aurors know where we are and what happened here.”

“Oh.”

Together they sat in front of the building quietly, waiting for the Aurors to show. Harry smiled slightly despite everything that happened in the last week. As the Aurors began arriving, Harry closed his eyes as fatigue set in. He felt Draco move beside him, standing to greet his colleagues. Even though Harry didn’t know what the future with Draco held, he did know that he no longer felt lonely.

End


End file.
